Chronicles of Raven Necros and Harry Potter
by DaughterofHades16
Summary: Raven Necros and the Cheat of Death: Raven Necros is a daughter of Hades who is journeying to Hogwarts to hide from her paranoid uncles and to settle a score that her father has with a wizard that is famously feared. How will she fare? Rated T
1. Special Mission

BEE-BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEE-BEEP!

Ugh. Make it stop.

BEE-BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEE-BEEP!

Shut up!

BEE-BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEE-BEEP!

THAT'S IT!

I quickly drew the sword I slept with (it might sound paranoid, but I've lost count of how many times it's saved my life) and sliced the alarm clock.

BEE-BEE—CRACK!

It beeped no more.

I groaned sleepily, sitting up in bed. I sheathed my weapon, stretching myself awake. I reached for a watch on my bedside table; the face was outlined with Ancient Greek symbols replacing the numbers; I use it as an alternative to my alarm clock in the event that I sliced my alarm clock. It was 8:47. Time for breakfast.

I got up, not bothering to get dressed. I shivered slightly, walking down the cold, solid obsidian hallways in my thin pajamas.

By the way, the name's Raven. Raven Necros. I live with my dad, who happens to be Hades, Lord of the Dead, in the Underworld.

Yeah, I know. Cool, right?

I ate breakfast alone. My dad was always up and in his throne room by 2 A.M.

I've been meaning to tell him to get more sleep, but he's a god. Who am I to question his judgment?

I mechanically chewed my cereal, I sighed. I was TIRED of eating cereal. It was all I ever ate. Aunt Demeter stocks us with a few tons of Mimi Wheats and corn flakes every harvest season.

After breakfast, I went back to my room to get dressed. I had to look my best, dad said. I slipped on a pair of black jeans, put on a black shirt, and strapped my sword to my belt. I put on a long, flowing black jacket on that would hide my sword.

I was going to school. Hogwarts, to be exact.

Dad wanted me to go, for two reasons.

Reason one: It was the safest place to hide from my uncle. Zeus was growing paranoid. Everyone knew that The Big Three having children was dangerous, and he gave Hades an ultimatum: Hand me over, or he'll destroy me himself. Dad decided that he'd take matters into his own hands. He me in a place called the Lotus Hotel and Casino when I was six years old. Then, seemingly a few days later, Dad brought me out to train in my powers. Part of this training was being sent off to school; this particular school was hidden from my uncle.

Reason two: Dad said that the wizards were facing a rising danger. One that I could assist in defeating. I didn't want to ask him why he actually wanted to _help someone_, he probably had an old score to settle with this guy.

I didn't mind. I was excited to learn magic other than Hades' powers.

I brushed through my shoulder-length black hair, letting it fall over half my face. I pulled my jacket hood up over my head, checking my watch again. It was almost time to go. I went to my father's throne room to get my bag and bid him farewell.

**oOo**

When I was seven, my father gave me a black bag that my mother planned on giving me before she died.

My dad never told me about my mom, other than she was a witch and that she was no longer living. I didn't even know her name.

Anyway, it was a simple black knapsack. At least, that's what it looked like from the outside. My mother had put a spell on it; Dad called it an "Undetectable Extension Charm". It was larger on the inside than it was on the outside.

It contained my clothes, a few canteens of Nectar, a bag of Ambrosia, and other essentials. I also had packed a large bag full of wizard money for me (Dad has money from everywhere. He is the rich god, after all), another bag filled with a surprise, and a few books written in Ancient Greek, including my favorite: _The Life and Times of Grace Sherwood—the Witch of Pungo._

"Remember," my father said as I shouldered my bag, "You're not only there for your own safety,"

"Yeah, dad, I know. Voldemort—that's his name, right?—anyway, he's rising, and they need my help. I still don't understand why—"

"Don't ask!" Hades cut me off short. "Expect something from me tomorrow afternoon at the latest." He said after calming a little.

Before I could respond or even say goodbye, I was sucked into the nearest shadow.

**oOo**

I tumbled into a stall in the Women's' lavatory at Kings' Cross. Exiting the restroom, I looked around for the right platform. What was it? Oh, yeah, 9 ¾. I walked past all the mortals, wondering if all of the ideas the British came up with were that weird.

I managed to find platforms 9 and 10. By reason, I figured that Platform 9 ¾ would be somewhere in the middle.

I groaned. The one detail that Dad had to leave out was how to get onto the frickin' platform!

I walked up and down the platforms, looking for any witches or wizards getting onto the platform. I glanced at my watch since I couldn't read the clock. 10:53. The train left at 11:00 exactly. I didn't have a lot of time.

I noticed a group of weirdly dressed people running along the platform. I followed them.

They, one at a time, ran through the wall between the platforms.

Like, _through_ it.

Deciding to follow their lead, I picked up speed and headed toward the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. I was about to enter when I noticed two boys, one with red hair and the other with black, skidding to stop their trolleys. They were obviously trying to do what I was trying to do.

"Sorry, you go," I said.

The black-haired boy shook his head. "You go on."

I smiled faintly. I walked through the barrier. On the other side, an amazing scarlet-red train was waiting to depart.

My amazement was interrupted by a loud crash from the other side of the wall that made me jump in surprise.

I ignored it, boarding the train. I picked an empty compartment near the back of the train, throwing my bag onto the seat across from where I sat. I pulled out one of my books, the one about the Witch of Pungo. It was the fourth time I'd read it, but I loved it every time.  
It was the story of my half-sister, Grace Sherwood, and how she was an ordinary woman who was different from anyone else. According to my father, my uncle Poseidon favored her. It was during her life that they actually got along about something. Poseidon blessed her with a beach home, where the fresh water of the Lynnhaven River would water her crops. He would calm the seas whenever she went for a swim, and she quickly became an avid swimmer.

Long story short, she was convicted of being a witch, and was thrown into the Lynnhaven River, crossbound with a bible around her neck, for trial by ducking. If she drowned, she'd be pardoned, and if she floated, she was convicted and thrown in prison. In fear of angering Hades, Poseidon assisted Grace by sending a naiad to loosen her bonds. She swam up, convicting her.

I was at a good part when I was interrupted by a woman outside with a cart of sweets.

"Anything from the trolley, dear?" she asked sweetly.

Marking my page, I opened the door to my compartment. I looked at the cart full of candies I'd never seen. I picked something that looked like it said "Chocolate" (I couldn't tell because of my dyslexia) and paid her two Knuts.

When she left, I opened the box. A brown frog hopped out, sticking to the window. I instinctively grabbed it, realizing that it was chocolate. I shrugged, shoving it in my mouth. It struggled, but once I bit into it, it fell limp.

I looked at a card that was in the box. I guessed they were collectable. On the front of the card was a picture of Circe. I knew all about her. I threw the card into my bag as the train slowed to a halt.

**oOo**

I was the last one off the train. I didn't want to get on the carriages, so I walked.

Yeah, I know. It was probably nerves. I'd never gone to school, and I'd never been around so many living people. When I reached the castle, I crossed a courtyard and entered through large oak doors.

It wasn't hard to find the Great Hall. It was the first room, and the biggest.

I took a deep breath, pulled my hood up to hide my eyes, formed a confident smile on my face and pushed open the large doors.

There were about four hundred teenagers in the room, seated at four long tables stretching the length of the room. At the fat end, adults were seated at two tables that spanned the width. And an old man stood at a podium, giving a speech that I had just interrupted. Everyone turned to stare at me.

"I'm here to speak with Dumbledore," I said clear enough for the entire room to hear me.

Everyone's gaze turned from me to the old man.

"Of course," the ancient man said. "If you'll wait a moment, I'll be right with you."

I nodded. "Of course." I said. I stepped aside, leaning against the cool wall.

"Students, while I settle this matter Professor McGonagall will continue the start-of-term announcements. Thank you, and don't worry."

He stepped down from the podium and a woman in emerald green robes took his place.

"We'll speak in my office," Dumbledore said as he walked down the aisle toward me. "This way." He led me out of the room.

After a few corridors, we approached a statue of a large bird.

"Sherbet Lemon," he said. I guess it was a password or something, because the statue began to rise and rotate, revealing a staircase. We stepped on and rode up until we stopped at a room. Dumbledore sat down at his desk and he offered me a chair. I sat.

"Now, what did you wish to speak to me about?" he asked.

"Okay, I'll get right to the point," I said, taking off my hood. I'd rehearsed this excuse, anticipating that Dumbledore wouldn't believe that I'm a demigod. "My name's Raven Necros. My father and some other scientists at the Base sent me."

"What base?" Dumbledore questioned, leaning forward.

"I represent a top-secret American society, based in Area 51. My father works there."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling gently. "I must say, you are an excellent liar. However, I require the truth.

I tried again. "Okay, the truth is…I'm a clone."

This made Dumbledore laugh. It was a warm laugh, though, and I didn't feel ridiculed. "Alright, now, honestly. Who are you and what is your purpose at my school?" he asked a third time.

I looked into his ancient eyes, finding it impossible to lie to them. I stood, approaching his desk. Pressing my hands on the wood of the desk, I looked him in the eye and asked, "How much do you know about Greek Mythology?"

Hermione's POV

I had a hard time paying attention to Professor McGonagall. I couldn't stop thinking about Dumbledore, alone with that hooded figure. Questions flooded my mind.

Who was she?

Did she have to do with You-Know-Who?

What did she want from us?

Was she the reason that Harry and Ron were missing?

Raven's POV

"So, long story short, my mother wanted me to come here. She says in this letter"— I pulled out a letter from my jacket pocket—"that she wanted me in Gryffindor." I stuffed the letter back in my pocket.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm not one to argue with a mother's last wishes.

We discussed further, and we agreed that I would attend the school as a second-year student.

We descended the staircase and headed back into the Great Hall.

**oOo**

Hermione's POV

It was a bit depressing, learning that this complete stranger was going to be staying in the Gryffindor Common Room. With her pale face and dark personality, she'd fit in perfectly in Slytherin.

I got dressed for bed in the dormitory. The girl, named Raven, hadn't left the common room since after dinner. There was something about her. Something she wasn't telling anyone.

I decided to be polite and at least introduce myself. I went down to the Common Room to find her lying on the couch, reading a book in the firelight.

I took a deep breath and lightly tapped her shoulder.

She sat up quickly, whirling around in her seat and holding up one hand in a defensive position.

I jumped in surprise, but forced a friendly smile.

"Hi. I'm Hermione Granger. We're rooming together," I said politely. She relaxed her hand.

"The name's Raven," she said, her accent clearly American.

I sat down next to her. "What are you reading there?"

She held up her gray, leather-bound book with symbols that even I didn't know on the front.

"It's called _The Life and Times of Grace Sherwood—The Witch of Pungo_,"

"What language is it in?" I asked.

"Ancient Greek."

"Ancient Greek?"

"It's the only language I can read."

"Can't you read English?"

"I'm dyslexic."

"Oh,"

I didn't know what else to say. She went back to reading, and our conversation pretty much ended there.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in class," I said.

Raven grunted in response.

I hurried back to the dormitory as fast as I could.

"Well, that was unpleasant," I muttered to myself. I went straight to bed, immediately trying to forget the conversation I'd just had.

Harry's POV

I'd like to say that this year was turning out to be the best I'd had yet. I could say that, but I'd be a filthy liar.

I rubbed the bruise that had formed on my forehead when I had hit it on Hedwig's cage earlier.

"Well, that was cheerful," Ron said sarcastically as we entered the Common Room.

"Oh, yeah," I replied sardonically. "We have to take a flying car to Hogwarts, which got ruined by a tree, which almost KILLED us, then drove off without us, and THEN we almost got EXPELLED. This is shaping up to be the best year EVER." I stopped when Ron motioned for me to be quiet and look behind me.

When I turned, there was a girl with long black hair dressed in all black, lying on the couch with an open book on her chest. She was asleep.

I turned back to Ron. "Who's that?" I whispered.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. She looks too old to be a first year." He pointed out.

"Maybe Hermione knows her?" I suggested.

"If she's new, Hermione definitely knows her."

We ascended the staircase, quietly rapping the girls' dorm room door. "Hermione!" Ron and I whispered.

She opened the door, revealing her in her flowing, pale blue nightgown.

"What do you want? Where were you? Did something happen to you?" she demanded.

"Shush!" Ron said. "We just saw a girl in the Common Room. Who is she?"

Hermione blinked. "Elaborate, please," she said.

"Um…she has black hair, dressed in all black, asleep on the couch. Know her?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's Raven Necros. She's new."

"What do you know about her?" I inquired.

"Only that she's American and that she's dyslexic."

"I want to know more about her." I stated.

"Good luck. Conversation's nearly impossible." Hermione told me.

I shrugged. "I'll try. Ron, you gonna join me?"

"No way! I don't need to know her, she creeps me out already."

I shook my head. "Let's sleep on this."

"Gladly," Hermione huffed grumpily. "Good night," she said, closing the door.

Ron and I glanced back at Raven. She'd rolled over in her sleep, and the book had fallen to the floor. I walked over, picking up the book. On one page was a picture of a woman in a boat, tied by her thumbs to her opposite toes. The other page was filled with symbols that I didn't recognize. I put the book back on the floor, and then went up with Ron to the dorm. Now I was determined to learn more about her.

**_Revised 7/23/2011_**


	2. New Classes, New friends, New owl

**Revised again, so PLEASE REREAD, I ADDED IMPORTANT DETAILS thanks ^_^**

Raven's POV

I woke up the next morning right around the chime of seven-thirty. I groaned, thankful that I was excused from classes today. I realized my book had fallen to the floor. I picked it up, throwing it in my bag.

I yawned, slipped on my jacket and pulled my hood up. Shouldering my bag, I shadow-traveled to Diagon Alley. Dumbledore excused me from classed today, at least until I'd bought a wand and the necessary supplies that weren't already provided for me.

The alley was quiet; there weren't many people there.

I rubbed my forehead. The Shadow-travel made me even drowsier. I reached into my bag and pulled out my canteen of Nectar, taking a swig. Screwing the canteen's cap back on, I walked up to a sign that read: DIVALREOL'S. _Damn my dyslexia to Tartarus._ I thought.

After a few head-aching minutes of trying to read it, I finally asked a passing witch what it said.

"That's Ollivander's, that is." She said. "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

"Thanks," I said, and she walked away.

I entered the store. I looked around, gazing at the seemingly endless walls of thin, long boxes.

"Ah, you've finally come," a voice behind me said. I turned, seeing a tall old man that I guessed was Ollivander.

He smiled at me, and then went to the desk to fetch a tape measure. "I remember the day your father bought your mother a replacement wand when hers was broken."

"You knew my dad?" I asked as he measured my right arm.

"Briefly. Good man. Dark, but with goodness in him. I'm sure you are the same."

I was beginning to like this guy.

He put away the tape measure, browsing the many thin boxes. He picked one seemingly at random. He opened it, handing the wand it contained to me.

"This one's made of elm, 11 inches, with a unicorn hair core. Wave it."

I'd barely moved it, and faster than I could see, he'd snatched it from my hand, muttering, "No, no, no, no, no."

He picked another wand, giving it to me.

"Pine, Dragon heartstring core, 10 ½ inches." This time, I swished it a little. Of course, nothing happened, but Ollivander still took it from me.

He pulled out a pitch-black, slender-looking one. It looked cool, but I decided not to get my hopes up. As he handed it to me, I felt a gust of warm wind blowing around me.

"Strange," Ollivander muttered.

"What?" I asked as the warm air diffused.

"This wand is made from yew wood, with a phoenix feather core, 14 inches long. It is very similar to a wand that chose a vile person, someone that your father especially feels hatred for. It is very powerful, in the right hands. And, like that wizard, I believe that you will do great things. Be careful."

"What was the name of that wizard?" I asked curiously.

"He was a terrible man who did terrible things. We fear to even speak his name, so he is referred to as You-Know-Who of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"You mean Voldemort?"

The old man recoiled so fast, I thought he was going into conniptions.

"Do not speak his name." he warned.

"Alright," I said, a little startled. I paid him seven Galleons, thanked him, and left after pocketing the wand.

Since everything else was already bought for me, I figured I'd just browse the alley.

I passed by a store (I couldn't read the name of it). Inside the window, I could see several robes of varying colors and several mirrors. I saw my reflection in one of them.

I looked as I normally did: skinny, pale, dressed in black with ragged hair in the same color. I sighed. So this is what the students would see me as. My appearance just screamed_ 'Be my friend!'_ …not.

"Dear!" said a woman at the door. I turned to her. "Can I help you, dear?"

"No, thank you, ma'am," I said. I took one last look at myself in the mirror and was about to leave when—

My eyes widened and I whirled around. I was in love. And I didn't even know what it was.

I moved to the window of the store across from the robe shop. I brought my face as close to the glass as I could. Just beyond it was a broomstick.

Since finding out I was a witch, my ADHD mind had developed a vision of myself on a broom with a black cat on the handle, cackling my head off. Yeah, the ADHD side of my mind is weird.

A young man poked his head out the door and cleared his throat. "You looking to buy it, or you looking to look at it?" he asked.

"You mind if I get a closer look at it?" I asked flatly, still staring at it

"Not at all, come right on in."

I was in that store faster than you can say 'sold'.

I gazed at its polished handle; in gold near the tip of the handle was written the word _Firebolt_.

As I gawked at it, the young man was describing it.

"It's called a Firebolt. It is made of the finest of ash wood and polished to a shine. The tail is composed of birch twigs, sleeked back for perfect aerodynamics. And you think zero to sixty is impressive with Muggle Automobiles? This beauty does zero to a hundred fifty in ten seconds flat!" he snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. "It also boasts an unbreakable Braking Charm, superb balance and precision, and hovers at a reasonable mounting height when you let it go. But, of course, being the best, it is highly expensive."

"How much?"

"167."

"Galleons?"

He nodded.

"Sold," I said, pulling out a bag of gold.

"Great! I'll bet you one from the back, with a case!" he said excitedly as I counted out coins that would no doubt end up being his paycheck.

I left with a brand-new Firebolt in my bag, locked in a hard case.

I went to the bookstore next. The lady at the front desk taught me how to translate anything written into a language I could read. Just by tapping my wand to it and thinking of Ancient Greek. Anyway, I bought a book on Standard Charms, Advanced Charms, Dark Charms, Dark Practices, and one on rainbow ponies.

Yeah, right, over my dead body (which wasn't very likely).

After a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, I Shadow-traveled back to Hogwarts. Everyone was in the Great Hall having lunch when I returned to the Common Room. I swigged some nectar, and then headed downstairs.

No one noticed me entering the Great Hall. I put together a plate; I took a seat at the far, empty end of the Gryffindor table.

'Oh, my gods, this is much better than McDonalds,' I thought to myself. Taking another bite, I added, 'but not BK. Never BK.'

My lunch was interrupted when a bespectacled, black-haired boy sat across from me. I furrowed my brow.

"Hello!" he said brightly, holding out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Harry Potter."

I shook his hand. "My name's Raven."

"You're new, aren't you," he said, gathering a spoonful of his buttered corn.

"Yeah, I am. Transferred from America." It wasn't too big of a lie.

"Cool. What's your family like?" he asked casually.

"I live with my dad in Los Angeles. My mother's dead."

"My parents were murdered when I was a baby." Harry said, sadly.

"Harsh."

He nodded. "That's when I got this." He pulled up his bangs, revealing a lightning-bolt-shaped scar.

"Whoa," I said, intrigued by it. I felt a tugging at my stomach, a feeling I knew all too well.

"Something dark happened here." I muttered. I returned to my lunch, and the feeling receded.

"How do you mean that?" Harry asked, letting his hair fall over his brow.

I shook my head. "It's hard to explain. I'm just…different."

He nodded. "You and me both."

I smiled, taking a bite out of my chicken leg.

"I really hope we can be friends,"

My head shot up at this remark.I felt like an alien on a strange world, wondering if this was normal behavior.

"Why would you want to be friends with me?" I inquired.

"You seem nice. And it's nice to have a friend that doesn't smother me asking me for my autograph, or recognizes me by my scar."

I considered this. "Sounds cool." I said.

I went up to the Common Room to get my books together. I pulled out the schedule Dumbledore gave me, tapping it with my wand. The jumble of letters changed into ancient symbols. I tried to commit my schedule to memory, which was hard to do with my ADHD mind.

I shouldered my bag, glancing at the next class I had. Potions. Didn't seem too bad.

I went ahead and made my way to the Dungeons, using a simple map that Dumbledore provided. When I found the right room, I realized that the room was locked and probably wouldn't be opened until class began.

Everyone else was still eating. I shrugged. What did I care? I simply found the darkest corner nearby, pulled my hood up, and sat down.

Harry's POV

Although my conversation with Raven didn't go quite as I'd planned, at least I made conversation.

I could definitely tell that there was something she wasn't telling me. That she was hiding something.

I had potions next (not really something I was in the mood for). I gathered my books and headed toward Snape's classroom.

Raven was already there, sitting in a dark corner. I mean, there were other students there, but it was clear she had been there the longest.

Everybody kept a ten-foot berth around her. No wonder: Gryffindor had class with Hufflepuff; The Gryffindors were wary of her while the Hufflepuffs were just right-out afraid of her.

Once class began, she took a seat in the back of the room. I sat next to her, and Ron sat next to me.

Ron gave me a look that said 'Are you mental?'

I elbowed his ribs.

During Potions, she and I talked more. Even Ron got to know her a little.

After Potions was Charms. I didn't see her until i actually got there. Again, she sat from everyone.

Transfiguration was next; same situation.

At dinner, she sat alone again. I sat across from her, and this time, Ron and Hermione joined me.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, reluctantly shaking her ice-cold hand.

After a few moments of talking and eating, an owl screeched and flew into the Great Hall in great circles, dodging the floating candles. I stared at it; it was late for mail to be arriving.

"Whose is that?"

Raven's POV

_Oh, my gods, this is the BEST coconut cream pie EVER! Take THAT Aunt Demeter!_ I thought as I shoved small bits of pie into my mouth.

"Whose is that?" Harry wondered out loud.

I followed his gaze to see a perfectly black owl gliding into the Hall, swooping down and landing in front of me.

"I guess it's mine." I said, answering Harry's question.

I took the letter that was clamped in its beak, opening it.

It was from my dad.

_Raven,_ it began in Ancient Greek,

_It has been brought to my attention that you will not always have the opportunity to send me Iris-messages. As such, I have given you this owl, one of my own creation. She can Shadow-travel and can send letters between us or any other mortal friends you may make_—I looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione—_I wish you well, and I hope to hear from you soon._

He signed it at the bottom with a symbol that looked like a triangle with a straight vertical line and a perfect circle in the middle. It had always been his signature, but I never knew why and I didn't feel like asking.

"What's her name?" Hermione asked, looking at my new owl.

"I haven't named her yet."

"Well, why don't you name her?" Harry suggested.

I set down the letter in my hand, looking at my owl. She had such sleek black wings, dangerous-looking black talons, and mesmerizing red and black eyes. I thought carefully. 'Nightmare' was ruled out; that was my sword's name.

"I'll name her… Shade." I said, lightly stroking her feathers.

Harry picked up the letter. "What language is this in?" he questioned.

"Ancient Greek." I said simply.

"Why ancient Greek?" Ron asked, looking over Harry's shoulder to attempt to read it.

"I can't read English, I'm dyslexic."

"And whoever wrote this knows it too?"

"Yeah, my dad."

"Oh," Harry said. "I see," he handed me back the letter.

Over the next few weeks, I grew closer to Harry, Ron, and even Hermione. I opened a small gap in the wall that closed me off from the rest of the world. But I never told them my biggest secret.

One late night, I was stoking the Common Room fire when Shade shadow-traveled into the room. She circled the room once, screeching. She landed on the arm of the couch. I stood, taking the letter from her beak. It felt heavy, and I could feel something inside the envelope. I opened the envelope and a golden drachma slid into my hand.

I unfolded the letter; it was a note from my dad.

_Do not think that school will excuse you from our monthly progression presentations. Shadow-travel into the forbidden forest, and iris-message me._

I sighed and followed his instructions. I slid on my hoodie, shoving my golden drachma and a small baggie of ambrosia into my pocket.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the Forbidden Forest.

Harry's POV

An owl's screech woke me.

It didn't sound like Hedwig, and my curiosity found me out of my bed, grabbing my father's invisibility cloak and slipping on my shoes.

I stood at the top of the landing, looking down at the Common Room. The owl was Raven's, and she was reading a letter.

It didn't seem like anything was going on, and I was about to leave, when she did something very odd.

She was engulfed in shadows, and then they melted away into nothing.

I quickly woke Ron and Hermione.

Raven's POV

I materialized at the mouth of the Forest.

I touched my head, which ached. Shadow-traveling takes a lot of energy and makes me a little tired.

After walking through the forest awhile, I found a wide clearing. Perfect.

The moonlight met the late-night mist and cast a faint rainbow on a wide tree-trunk. I tossed the golden drachma into it.

"O Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, accept my offering." The rainbow shimmered. "Lord Hades, Underworld." I requested. My father's image appeared on the tree trunk.

"About time," my father mumbled. "Let's begin with your pyrokinesis."

I nodded. I felt my energy build up, tugging at my gut. I released it through my hands in the form of a ball of black fire. I threw it at the nearest tree sapling, which burned instantly. I formed another ball of fire in my hand, this time blue. I turned back to my father, who looked quite impressed.

Letting the fire diffuse, I grabbed my baggie of ambrosia, eating a piece. Like shadow-traveling, most of my powers drained a lot of energy and made me tired.

I showed Father my geokinesis after that, destroying small trees with large chunks of rock and Stygian Iron that I'd summoned. I, without thinking, ate most of my Ambrosia during that.

After that, I summoned fifteen skeletal warriors to top my previous twelve by stabbing the earth with my black, Stygian Iron sword.

This drained the most of my energy, and I nearly collapsed. I was already feeling feverish and i knew i couldn't eat any more Ambrosia if I wanted to remain alive.

Father was pleased and broke the connection, bidding me good night.

I sat on a charred stump, rubbing my forehead.

SNAP!

I jerked my head up. A twig had snapped behind me. I turned slowly toward the sound. I sensed something living in that direction, but I didn't see anything.

I created a stream of blue and black fire, waving it swiftly in front of me. This made a gust of hot wind, which blew some cloak off of three students: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

This burst of energy drained a lot out of me. I leaned weakly against my sword as the three stared at me wide-eyed.

My eyelids turned to lead and, using my last ounce of strength, I sheathed my sword. I crumpled to my knees.

"Don't tell," I choked out before collapsing, unconscious.

Ron's POV

Harry, Hermione, and I walked around the grounds under Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Hermione pointed out a misty light deep in the forest.

As we headed for it, we heard a few "Hi-yah!"s every now and then.

We approached a clearing, seeing Raven stab the earth and skeletons rising from a chasm that formed in the ground.

I stared horrified at the skeletons. As soon as she summoned them, she dismissed them and they dissolved.

We were startled when she blew hot air at us with unnaturally colored flames, and the cloak flew off of us. She put away her sword. "Don't tell," she said, and then collapsed dead at our feet.

Okay, maybe not dead, but she sure looked it.

Hermione grabbed the cloak, and harry and I helped take Raven back to the Common Room. Hermione conjured up a wet cloth, which Harry applied to her hot forehead once we got her on the couch.

Raven's POV

I awoke, feeling someone's cool hand on my forehead.

"She's burning up," I heard Harry's voice say.

"I sat up, clutching my head. It felt as though something were pounding against my brain. My feverish feeling had faded, and i decided that Nectar was in line. I managed to my feet, looking around. I was back in the Common Room.

I stumbled, but caught myself on a nearby desk. I pointed across the room.

"Get—bag—need it." I managed. Whenever I spoke, my head pulsed.

Hermione tossed me my bag and I pulled out my canteen of Nectar, taking a sip. It tasted of coconut cream pie (the kind Hogwarts had. Aunt Demeter's was always…let's just say Hogwarts' was better.) and filled me with a warm sensation. My headache receded slightly, but I was still tired, had trouble thinking straight, and was in dire need of a nap.

When I screwed the cap back on and looked up, the three were staring at me as if I'd grown an extra arm, two heads, and a wing. I checked to make sure I hadn't.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What the bloody hell was that back there?" Ron demanded.

I stumbled forward. I waved my hand in front of their faces, and then snapped my fingers.

"These are not the droids you are looking for. I MEAN—"I slapped my forehead, triggering my headache which slowly receded again. What was I saying? I tried again, waving my hand and snapping a second time.

"I wasn't doing anything. You didn't see anything."

They blinked in confusion. "Uh, yes, we did." Ron insisted.

I cursed under my breath. Magic mortals must have the ability to see through the Mist.

I furrowed my brow. "Okay, never mind," I said, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Now, what _exactly_ did you see?"

They told me everything they saw, that they'd only seen me summon the skeletons.

I nodded. "And? Your theories?" I asked, curious.

"Either you're a demon or you're a servant of You-Know-who," Hermione blurted.

"Wrong and wrong. I'm at least partly human, and I'm here to _stop_ Voldemort. But trust me: if I told you what I am, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try us," the Harry challenged.

I smirked, glancing at my watch. "Wow, it's late, we should head to bed." I headed toward the spiral staircase, but all three of them blocked my way. Still smirking, I shadow-traveled behind them.

"Good try. What next?"

They jumped and whirled around.

"Alright, please, _please_ just tell us!" Hermione pleaded. "If you tell us, we'll stop pestering you."

I thought about this. They _were_ a noisy bunch. If I didn't tell them, I'd never get a moments' peace. And I NEED my moments' peace. I nodded and told them to sit on the couch. I stood in front of the fire, facing them.

"Who here knows about Greek Mythology?"

"We learned a little in Muggle school." Harry said.

"As did I" Hermione added.

"And you know about the gods?"

"The twelve Olympian gods: Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Athena, Zeus—"

"Yeah, you get it." I interrupted Hermione mid-rant. "Well, the gods are real. And they're still around, still having kids with mortals. These children—with one mortal parent and the other a god—are called demigods."

"Are you a demigod?" Hermione guessed.

I shrugged. "Demigod, half-blood, godling, take your pick."

"Which god is your parent then?" Ron asked.

"My father is Hades, Lord of the dead."

Hermione gasped. "_Greek Mythology Revealed_ says that he was the most evil and most spiteful of the gods,"

I groaned. "Just like you mortals to think that." I muttered, standing. I began to pace, waving my arms as I talked— "Look, if _you_ had to live in a hole full of dead people for _eternity_, and can only come out once a year for a _meeting_, you'd be grumpy, too. That doesn't make him evil, and the same goes for me! We're just…" I racked my brain for the right work, sitting back down.

"Misunderstood,"

I threw a puzzled look at Harry when I realized he and I had said the word at the same time.

"But _Greek Mythology_—"

"Look," I rounded on Hermione, "Who are you going to believe? Some writer or a demigod who _lives with a god?_"

Now _they_ were giving _me_ puzzled looks.

I sighed. "My father's raised me most of my life because my mother died when I was young. I don't know how." It was then I noticed Harry absentmindedly rubbing his forehead where his scar was.

"But if your mother's dead, can't you just visit her in the Underworld?" asked Ron.

"I wish so badly that it was that simple, Ron. See, there's a prophesy, and it says that when one of the children of the Big Three—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—turns sixteen, they'll have the choice of whether to destroy Olympus or save it. Until I turn sixteen, I'm not allowed anywhere near Elysium."

"What's that? What's that have to do with anything?"

"It's the place in the Underworld where the good people go. My mother went there, and I made a bet with my father that if I wasn't the child of the Great Prophesy, then I'd be allowed into Elysium. Until then…"

"But can't you just pop in there like you did just now?"

"The Underworld is complicated." Harry stood and looked into my eyes. I knew what he was thinking, what he couldn't bring himself to say.

I explained further, in more detail, about my powers. I even showed them my sword.

I swung the black blade a few times, then lunged and stabbed Ron in the chest.

He yelped in surprise, and then looked down at the sword that protruded from his chest. There was no blood. There wasn't even a cut or bruise. "What the—"

I smirked, amused, putting my sword away. "It's Stygian Iron. Won't harm mortals. Only monsters and demigods. See?" I swung it casually and gave myself a nick on my palm. It wasn't a gruesome cut, but Hermione gasped all the same.

"Aren't you hurt?" she asked, worried, as the wound began to bleed sluggishly.

"Yeah. But I, being a daughter of Hades, have a natural tolerance for pain. Sure, I feel it, I just ignore it. Or try to at least. Because pain's nothing more than a distraction," I said, sheathing my sword. I grabbed my bag and found a long bandage. I began wrapping my hand.

When i finished, Isat across from them. "Now, let me set something straight. Being a daughter of Hades, I'm destined to be an outcast. Only the dead will truly respect me, only out of fear. Now, I think we can be friends, but I'm not sure that I want my parentage known quite yet. For now, this is between us, agreed?"

They agreed.

I smiled—a rarity for me—and put my fist in the middle of the four of us. They each, one by one, put their hand on top of mine.

"Friends?" I asked.

"Friends," they said in unison.


	3. Mudbloods and Voices and Blood, Oh My

**A/N: Ok here's the third chapter. I'm being weird now and I'm referencing both the Harry Potter movies and books. I keep switching to make the story flow better.**

Raven's POV

The days passed, and Saturday came. I had aimed to sleep in, but Hermione crushed that dream.

She shook me awake about as early as I'd have woken up on a school day.

"Hermione, its Saturday!" I groaned, half-awake. "What are we getting up for?" I demanded.

"We're going to watch Harry practice Quidditch. Get dressed and meet us in the Common Room," she said and left.

I groaned, but got up and dressed. I went down to the Common Room to meet up with Ron and Hermione, and the three of us walked down the Grand Staircase toward the Quidditch Pitch.

"Where are we going, again?" I asked.

"We're going to watch Harry during Quidditch practice." Ron said.

"What's Quidditch?"

Ron had a good time explaining the entire thing to me; He explained in full detail the rules, the players, the balls, the ways to score, and which teams were the best. I must say it was very interesting.

We took our seats in the stands. Hermione was rereading _Quidditch Through the Ages_ for like the third time while Ron and I talked Quidditch. This squirrelly, spazzy kid with a camera was sitting not far from us, snapping pictures. Each time he did, the flash clicked very loudly and it made it difficult to stay on my train of thought.

Ron and I were just starting to discuss brooms when the players landed and began talking to a group of players dressed in green robes. At first I thought that it was an early Christmas convention, but it was obviously not, as they seemed to be bickering.

We went down onto the field to see what was up.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's_ he_ doing here?" he gestured toward a short, pale, white-blonde boy.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," he said, "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

While Ron gaped at the brooms while the kid went on about how they were better that Ron's. Then Hermione interrupted.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in. _They_ got in on pure talent."

I grinned and was about to yell "Burn!" when the boy spoke before I could.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

All hell broke loose.

He'd obviously insulted her, because the entire Gryffindor team went into an uproar (except for Harry and Hermione, who had the least knowledge of wizard slang out of anyone). Ron pointed a broken wand and pointed it at the kid who I now knew was called Malfoy (everyone had begun screaming his name).

Out of nowhere—well, actually, out of Ron's broken wand—came a loud banging noise and a flash of green light. He was thrown backwards and out of the frenzy.

"Ron! Ron, are you alright?" Hermione squealed as I exclaimed, "Oh, my gods, Ron!"

Ron rolled over onto his hands and knees, vomiting a mass of slugs.

"Oh, gods!" I looked away. I had no problem with slugs, but the one thing I cannot stomach is vomit and/or vomiting, and I can stomach a lot.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's," Harry said, "He'll know what to do." Hermione and I nodded, and she and Harry helped Ron to his feet. I turned back to them, walking with them and wishing I could conjure up a bucket for him.

The spazzy kid Colin came over, babbling. He was talking so fast—and he was drowned out by the Slytherins' laughter—that I hardly understood a word he said. Ron blew slugs again and I looked away, disgusted. Colin, when I looked back raised his camera.

"Wow! Can you hold him still, Harry?" he asked, excited.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry, and he and Hermione pushed past him and out of the stadium. I followed them closely behind.

As we neared the hut in which Hagrid lived the door swung out, but it wasn't Hagrid who exited.

I reacted so fast, I surprised myself. My hand whipped forward, gripping Ron's shoulder. I shadow-traveled us behind a bush by Hagrid's hut, much to Harry, Ron, and Hermione's surprise.

"What was that?" Hermione hissed.

"Shadow-traveling. It's a means of getting around by traveling through a shadow and appearing through a shadow somewhere else. It's a child-of-Hades thing."

Lockhart, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher walked away and we entered Hagrid's home. Hermione and Harry set Ron in a chair and Hagrid gave him a large bucket, which he promptly spewed into as Harry hastily explained the situation.

"Better out than in," Hagrid said. He started to make tea while his boarhound greeted me, a new visitor. I smiled, scratching behind his ears. I had a way with dogs; I have several hellhounds and a giant three-headed Rottweiler who all love me.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked as he scratched behind the dog's other ear.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," he growled, obviously put off. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

"How does a kelpie get in a well?" I asked.

"You don' wanna know."

I nodded and went back to petting Hagrid's dog. I kind of tuned out the rest of their conversation until it got interesting.

"Who was Ron tryin' ter curse anyway?" Hagrid asked.

"Malfoy. He called Hermione something—it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild." Harry said.

"It _was_ bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the tabletop looking pale and sweaty. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood' Hagrid—"

Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course—"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who's muggle-born—you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards—like the Malfoys-who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into his basin and continued, "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom—he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone, "said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaky hand. Hagrid offered me treacle fudge, and I made up the excuse that I was allergic. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."(J.)

"And a half-blood is…?" I asked.

"You know, when—"he retched and a fresh mass of slugs plopped into the basin,

"When only one parent is a witch or wizard. Most of the time, the other parent is a Muggle." Hermione explained.

"Ah. So I'm technically a half-blood in two ways," I pointed out.

**oOo**

Later, as we headed back to the castle, I approached Ron.

"This might seem random, but I don't know a lot about the different kinds of brooms. Is the Nimbus series the best kind?"

"There are better ones, but they're the best kind that's affordable. The World Class Racing Brooms are really expensive."

"Is a Firebolt a Racing Broom?"

"Are you joking? It's the best, the fastest broom in the world." He gave a hiccup and two small slugs fell out of his mouth. "why do you ask?" he said as he wiped slime off his chin.

"Just…" I realized that the talk of expensive brooms was making him a little depressed, so I decided to stop the conversation. "Just wondering. I saw one at Diagon Alley the other day and I just wondered."

He nodded as we walked into the cool Entrance Hall. Professor McGonagall came up and told Harry and Ron that they would serve their detentions at 3:00.

I told the three of them after she left that I wasn't hungry and would just hang around. They shrugged and went into the Great Hall.

I climbed the Grand Staircase, spoke the password and entered the Common Room. I found and shouldered my bag, going back and descending the stairs. I crossed the grounds to the Pitch, which was empty of Slytherins for the time being. They must've gone in for lunch.

I walked onto the grassy field. It was very spacious, and it was a shame it was never used in a game.

I let my bag drop onto the ground. I bent down, opening and reaching into it. I pulled out my brand-new Firebolt, looking at it carefully. This whole time, I never knew that I owned one of the greatest brooms in the world, a broom better than the Slytherin team's brooms all pulled together.

I mounted it awkwardly. Gripping the handle tightly, I kicked off.

I felt like I was in a jet, going so fast that I bet Zeus couldn't follow me if he knew where I was. I quickly found out that was really good at flying already. I had complete control over the broom, which turned at my every tilt. I felt free for the first time in my life.

I tilted the handle of my broom skyward, rising higher above the clouds. I flew higher and higher, until I just slowed and stopped (Even the best broom in the world has limits. Good thing, too, I was getting lightheaded and short of breath.) I let go of the broom with one hand, stretching it behind me. I put it back on the handle, making a slow back-flip before pointing the tip of my broom handle toward the Pitch.

I sped faster and faster toward the ground. Right before I slammed into the ground, I evened the tilt of my broom. I started gliding inches above the grassy field. I laughed joyously; for the first time in my life, I felt alive.

"Hey!" shouted a ginger-haired girl, "Catch this!" She flung her ink bottle as far and high as she could.

I caught sight of it and my battle instincts kicked in. I sped up and climbed a few dozen feet and quickly snatched the bottle out of the air.

I slowed down and floated down to the girl, handing the ink bottle back. "There you go."

"That was amazing!" she said excitedly. "Do you fly often?"

"Um…actually, that was my first time," I said, touching down.

"Your _first time? _Wow, you're brilliant! My name's Ginny, Ginny Weasley." She held out her hand for me to shake. I shook.

"Uh, thanks. My name's Raven." I stuffed my broom back into my bag. "Hey—Weasley—you're Ron's sister, aren't you? The one he and Harry are always—"

"You know Harry Potter? Can you get me his autograph?"

"Um…" I was now slightly uncomfortable now that the conversation turned on Harry. "What were you saying about my flying?"

"Oh, right! I was going to say that you should seriously consider trying out for the Quidditch Team. You're really good!"

"Thanks," I said as the Slytherin team walked onto the field.

"Oy!" shouted the Slytherin team's captain, Flint. "Off the field, no Gryffindors allowed!"

I had half a mind to tell him to shove his broom up his rear, but I knew it wouldn't do me much good. I just gave him and his teammates the trademark 'Death Glare' of a child of Hades and exited the Pitch.

I spent most of the afternoon in the empty Common Room, practicing my Umbramancy. I bent shadows around me, solidifying them into random forms. Finally, I got bored and made an acoustic guitar and a pick (I learned how to play when I was younger, and decided to start again).

I was playing one of my favorite songs when Hermione came in looking for me.

"Hey," she said. "It's time for dinner. Are you going to join us?"

"Sure," I said. I let the shadows dissipate, returning to where they belonged. I got up from my chair and followed her to the Great Hall.

**oOo**

Ron returned from his detention during supper, and he wouldn't stop talking about how awful it was. I wasn't surprised; I mean detention with Filch? Mr. I-Hate-Life-And-Everyone-So-I'm-Gonna-Find-Any-Way-To-Ruin-Your-Day Filch? Might as well shoot yourself and suggest yourself for Punishment.

We waited for Harry to come back from his detention with Lockhart. I began to fear that Lockhart had either bored or annoyed him to death.

Finally, during dessert, we decided to go looking for him.

As we neared the Defense Against the dark Arts classroom, I sensed someone living coming down the corridor ahead, moving fast. "Come on," I told Ron and Hermione, and broke into a jog. They struggled to keep up.

As I rounded the corner, I nearly rammed into a black-haired boy.

"Harry!" I breathed a relieved sigh.

"Did you hear it?" he asked desperately.

"Hear what?" asked Ron.

"That voice!"

"Voice? What voice?" Hermione questioned.

"I heard it first in Lockhart's office. And then, again, just—"He stopped, as if listening for it—or to it. "It's moving. I think it's going to kill." He took off running down the corridor.

"Kill?" Ron said as we ran after him.

As we came to an intersection in the corridors, I noticed something. "Stop!"

The three of them stopped. Harry's left shoe splashed in a puddle of water, of which there were many all down the corridor.

"I smell something," I reported. I took another whiff. It didn't smell like death, but similar. "Smells like…blood."

"That's what the voice said," said Harry, his eyes widened. He began walking down the corridor, and we followed.

"But it's stale blood…" I said, my face twisted in disgust. It wasn't a very pleasant smell, I was grateful that the others couldn't smell it.

I noticed it first. "Holy…"

Written on the wall were large words that looked to me just a jumble of shiny red letters.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware," Hermione read for me. "It's written in—"

"Blood," I finished. "Stale blood."

"Oh, no," Harry said faintly. I glanced at him, then followed his worried his gaze.

A long-haired tabby cat was hanging from a torch bracket by her tail. It was Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris. Harry edged closer to her, examining her.

I realized too late. "We've gotta get out of here, people are—"I was interrupted by students flooding the corridor on both sides, surrounding us, seeing the writing and the cat. "Damn…" I muttered under my breath.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware!" shouted Malfoy. I turned. There he was grinning at the front of the crowd. He glanced at us. "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

My blood heated with anger at this insult, then ran cold as another voice rang from within the hoard of students.

"What's goin' on 'ere?" It was Filch's voice. He pushed his way through the sea of students. "Go on, make way, make way!" He stepped out, seeing Harry, who was nearest. "Potter. Wha're you—" He stopped when he noticed his beloved cat hanging next to Harry.

"Mrs. Norris?" his voice rose with fear and worry. He then turned to Harry and his voice dropped menacingly. "You've—murdered—my—cat."

"No, no…" Harry said weakly. I guessed he'd intended to say it louder, but couldn't find his voice.

"I'll kill ya," said Filch, his eyes flashing wildly and nodding vigorously. He grabbed a fistful of Harry's collar. "I'll kill ya!" he repeated louder.

"_Argus!_"

The cavalry of various teachers arrived to the rescue.

Dumbledore quickly took down Mrs. Norris. "Come with me, Argus," he told Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Necros, Miss Granger."

Lockhart didn't hesitate to volunteer his office. We all headed there quickly.

As Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the table, he called me over.

I walked over, a cold wave hitting my stomach. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"Could you please examine Mrs. Norris to determine the cause of death? You are, after all, the most fit of any of us for the job."

I shrugged, stepping up to the table as the other teachers backed away.

As I began to check the cat for any cuts, gashes, or rope burns, Professor McGonagall asked why I was the most fit to examine Mrs. Norris. I Gave Dumbledore the 'OK' to let them in on my secret.

It was hard to concentrate with Lockhart babbling: "It was definitely a curse that killed her. Probably a Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it used so many times. So unlucky I wasn't there, I know exactly the countercurse that could've spared—"

"Forgive me for interrupting your unspeakably fascinating rants," I interjected, "but she's not dead. She's been Petrified."

"How can you figure?" asked Filch. "She sure looks dead," he added miserably.

"I'm sensitive to these things. Her soul is still within her body, still active. But from examination alone, I can't determine the cause."

"Why don't you ask _him_!" he stared pointedly at Harry. "You were there! You saw what he wrote on the wall!" he pointed an accusing finger in my direction. "Admit it!"

"It's not true, I swear!" Harry spoke up. "None of us laid a finger on Mrs. Norris!"

"I was there the entire time," I said, "and he never—"

"Rubbish!" Filch spat.

"If I might, Headmaster," said Snape, a teacher who scarily resembled my father, "perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. I guessed that Snape didn't support them often.

"However," Snape continued, "the circumstances are suspicious. I, for one, don't recall seeing Potter at diner."

"I'm afraid that's my doing, Severus," Lockhart said. "You see, young Harry was helping me to answer my fan mail."

I gave my friends a look that said "Let me talk" and said, "that's why Ron, Hermione, and I went looking for him. We'd just found him when he told us that he wasn't hungry. We were on our way back to the Common Room when we found Mrs. Norris," I said, rather convincingly.

Snape looked like he didn't believe me, but he turned to Dumbledore.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said.

Filch seemed just as furious as Snape. "My cat has been Petrified. I wanna see some _punishment_!"

Dumbledore assured him that she could be cured, then let Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I go. We went back to the Common Room.

**oOo**

That night, I lay awake in my four-poster, thinking. It was weird, the voice Harry heard, the blood on the wall, Filch's cat…

I decided to get my mind off it by reading. I lit my wand, reaching for my bag. I realized that I'd left it in the Common Room. Groaning, I got up and went down the stairs.

Harry was sitting alone on the couch in the Common Room, staring miserably at the fire. I sighed, tossing my bag into a chair. I sat down next to him on the couch; he didn't look up.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Are you thinking about earlier, about the voice?"

He nodded.

"What did it sound like?" I blurted. _Damn ADHD._

"I…can't explain it." He managed to say.

"You don't have to. You can just show me," I said.

"What?" he asked greatly confused.

"Here, face me," I said, turning away from the fire and toward him. He did the same.

"Okay, practice first. Close your eyes, clear your mind. Breathe slowly, in through your nose and out of your mouth. He did.

"Okay, now for real. Do what you just did, but think of that moment when you heard that voice."

I knew he was, because he looked uneasy.

"Alright, now, this won't hurt a bit." I assured him. I cracked my knuckles, loosening up.

"I hope," I amended, closing my eyes.

"What?"

I focused my energies on Harry's mind. It was like watching a movie, only I was in the place of the main character. It was intense. I was walking down the corridor, and there was this cold, raspy voice saying, "_Blood…I smell..blood…" _I focused back on my own mind. I told Harry to open his eyes.

"Wow, that was weird," he said.

"Oh, I didn't—you didn't feel invaded or controlled or anything?" I asked.

"No, but I definitely felt an outside presence."

"Okay, Ευχαριστώ τους θεούς," I said, which meant "thank the gods" in Greek.

"Ξέρω, ότι θα ήταν κακό," Harry said. My eyes widened. He just said "I know, that'd be bad" in Greek.

"What?" I said.

"What?" Harry said, looking worried. I immediately felt more worried, but it wasn't me (Does that make sense?).

"You just spoke Greek!"

"What?"

I had a terrible thought. I flicked him on the forehead. A sharp pain jabbed my brow.

"Ow!" we chorused and clutched our foreheads. I now felt outraged and slightly angry. I realized that that's how Harry felt.

"Oh, my gods."

"What happened?" Harry asked. He felt worried.

"I think I accidentally made a connection with you. I now feel what you feel, emotionally and physically."

Harry looked and felt even more worried.

"Well, this might turn out to be a good thing. Who knows, we might be able to talk through our minds." We chuckled.

On that happy note, we went to bed.

**Okay, that concludes this chapter. (: Let me know what you think of the new "bond" between Raven and Harry. Wow, I can't wait to write the Goblet of Fire based one now. Also, I've changed the title of the story. (:**

**Constructive criticism welcome. Peace until next update! XD**


	4. Of Legends, Potions, and Quidditch

**A/N: Again, i revised this chapter. Guess that happens with a WIP.**

**Later on, between two *s means that it contains text taken directly from the book, but full credit goes to J.K. Rowling.**

Harry's POV

The morning after Raven and I'd…connected…we told Ron and Hermione about it. They were slightly creeped out, and I couldn't blame then, but they realized that this might prove useful.

The next few days were strange. Lockhart couldn't keep his flashy mouth shut and by the next evening, the entire school knew about Raven's father. Whenever we walked through the corridors, Raven would trail behind Ron, Hermione, and me, well aware of the whispering and pointing students around her. I'd look behind me, seeing her with her hood up and staring at the floor as she walked to avoid receiving the weird looks from the kids who knew of Greek mythology. Students kept an even wider berth around her, as if afraid her tough could bring death.

The only friends she'd gained from this experience was Fred and George Weasley. They've seem to have taken her under their wing, and every now and then they'd steal her off on a little mini-adventure over the weekends. I've even seen her trying to teach them how to write in Ancient Greek. I wouldn't be surprised if they have been secretly plotting to blow the school up.

On the way to History of Magic class one day, Raven stopped us. She handed us each a small slip of parchment, telling us to have it out during class.

While Professor Binns droned on about something that happened over 700 years ago, I fidgeted with my slip of parchment to keep from falling asleep. I stopped when words appeared on it. I moved it in front of me on the desk. It read:_ Hello, Harry, Hermione, Ron. It is I, your friend the demigod._ The words stayed on the page for a few moments, then faded and disappeared.

I picked up my quill and wrote: _Raven? How'd you do this?_

_What the bloody hell? _It read next.

_Fred and George lent me a book on trick spells, um…wait, which of you is which?_

_Ron_

_Harry_ I wrote.

_Ok, let's put our initials after we write. RN_

_Wait, how can we understand you? I thought you can't read English. RW_

_Translation charm. Also from the twins' book. Yours are in English and mine are in Ancient Greek. RN_

_Brilliant! HP_

_We should use this in other classes! RW_

_You know, maybe you should be paying attention. HG_

_Aww, don't be such a buzzkill, Hermione. RW_

_Well, don't you want to pass this class? HG_

_How about this: We need information—well, Hermione wants information—that everyone wants, and that might be crucial to the safety of this school. So, why don't you make yourself useful and ask Binns about the Chamber of Secrets or something, Hermione. RN_

_That's actually a good idea, Hermione. Binns should know about it. HP_

_Yeah. RW_

_Why me? Why not Raven? _You're_ the one who's _used _to talking to ghosts. No offence. HG_

_None taken. And come on. Since when do _I_ ask questions in class? You're more likely. RN_

_Good point. RW_

_Good point. HP_

_Good point. HG_

No one wrote anything for a few seconds.

_Fine. HG_

Binns was interrupted in the middle of his speech by Hermione's raised hand.

*"Miss—er-?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

I looked around the room and noticed Raven pulling out another piece of parchment, as if ready to take notes if needed. She, along with the rest of the class, looked intently up at the professor.

"My subject is History of Magic. I deal with _facts_, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers—"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in amazement. I was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "Yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he'd never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very _sensational_, even _ludicrous_ tale—"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns' every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. I could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets…"

I glanced back at Raven, who raised her black quill. I looked back at Binns.

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago—the precise date is uncertain—by the four greatest witched and wizards of the age. The four Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."

The room had been so motionless that the movement of Raven's quill as she copied down these names on her page caught my eye.

"They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people. And witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others, Slytherin wished to be more _selective _about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Another pause.

"Reliable sources tell us this much," he said, "but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.

There was a silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns' classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's had was back in the air.

"Sir—what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous glances.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, then no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters haven't found the thing—"

"But Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it—"

"Just because a wizard _doesn't_ use Dark Magic doesn't mean he _can't_, Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore—"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't—" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to _history_, to solid, believable, verifiable _fact!_"*

I turned back to the slip of four-way parchment. I wrote: _Raven, what did you write down? HP_

_I'll show you in the Common Room later. For now, I'll say that I might have a lead on this Chamber business. RN_

_Great. Well, I'm falling asleep. Wake me if I sleep through the bell. RW_

_Maybe. RN_

_Good idea, Ron. HP_

_Yeah. Following your lead. RN_

_Wait, guys. HG_

…_Guys? HG_

_Great, all three of you are asleep. HG_

**oOo**

Raven's POV

The bell jolted me awake, and I quickly folded the parchment on which I wrote the names of the founders and slipped it in my jeans pocket. I shouldered my bag and headed out the door. I grabbed my sword from a broom cupboard just outside the classroom, strapped it to my belt, and joined my friends.

Professor Binns makes me remove my sword before entering his class. Ghosts hate the presence of Stygian Iron.

Anyway, I met up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and together we tried to get through the crowds. We were heading back to drop our bags off before dinner.

I pushed my way up to Harry. Since our connection, I felt closer to him as a friend.

I groaned inwardly as the squirrely kid, Colin, went past.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hullo, Colin," he said automatically. Colin caught sight of me as well.

"Raven—Harry—some kids in my class have been saying you might be—"

Colin Creevy is a tiny kid, and there was no way he could've possibly fought against the flow of the people walking on.

"See you, Harry!" and he was gone.

"What've people been saying about you two?" Hermione wondered.

"That I'm the heir of Slytherin, I expect," said Harry.

"Probably the same with me," I added. "I bet people think that because he's evil, Slytherin was a son of Hades." I mostly said this to make Harry feel better, but it was actually my opinion. All the way down the corridor, I'd hear whispers of "Slytherin" and "Hades" and "heir".

"People here'll believe anything." Ron said.

I inhaled deeply as the crowd thinned and I could breathe again. We could now easily climb the staircase.

"D'you _really_ think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" asked Ron to Hermione.

"I don't know. Neither Dumbledore nor Raven could cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be—well—human."

"Sounds like you're thinking monsters. I'm familiar with monsters," I said as we turned the corner. We found ourselves in the same corridor from that night. Aside from the cat no longer hanging from a torch and the chair under the writing on the wall, it was the same. It smelled even worse now that the smell of stale blood was mixed with the smell of cleanser. I scrunched my nose , bringing my hand to my face to filter the air of the smell. I glanced at Harry. He didn't show any sign of detecting the smell.

_Damn, he's lucky_ I thought.

"That's where filch has been keeping guard," said Ron, indicating the chair under the writing.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around." Harry dropped his bag and got down on his hands and knees.

I pulled up my hood, crouching down on one knee and placing a hand on the floor. I honed my senses and listened for the slightest sign of anything living. The sound of the others' voices blurred, and I heard a soft clicking noise, like many bony insect legs. I concentrated on it, and it got louder. I opened my eyes, straightened, and turned to the source of the noise, seeing a rather unusual sight. The noise faded and stopped.

"Guys…look at this." Harry got up and Hermione walked over with great interest.

No more than two dozen spiders were practically fighting their way through a crack near the window. They seemed to be afraid of something, so much so that they needed to get away immediately.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" Hermione asked.

I shook my head.

"No," harry said, "have you, Ron? Ron?"

I looked. Ron was back farther in the corridor, looking ready to run. My gut tugged as I sensed the fear coming off him.

"You okay, man?" I asked.

"I—don't—like—spiders."

Hermione was surprised. "I never knew that. You've used spiders loads of times—"

"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, his eyes wandering everywhere—anywhere—but the window. "I just don't like the way they move…" This made Hermione laugh.

"It's not funny!"

"It really isn't. Fear is natural, and arachnophobia is completely rational, especially after what happened." Ron's eyes widened and his hand shot to his forehead. "Fred told me," I added hastily, "I didn't read your mind or anything." He relaxed.

There was an awkward silence, which Harry broke.

"Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was in that area," Ron gestured to the area next to Filch's chair.

I knelt on one knee again, this time examining the floor.

"Here. If you look closely, filth that was left behind from the puddles soaked into the stone, leaving a circle of dirt in its place. There's a trail that leads…" Still crouching, I followed the row of puddle outlines. I straightened at the foot of a door that bore the sign 'Out of Order'. "…to the girls' bathroom."

For a moment, I thought I'd caught the smell of death, of which I was familiar with. I reached for the knob.

"Wait!" Ron cried. I jerked my hand back and turned my head quickly to him. "What?"

"We can't go in there!" he exclaimed. "That's a _girls'_ lavatory."

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione scoffed. "No one ever goes in there. That's Moaning Myrtle's place."

"Moaning Myrtle?" I asked.

"A ghost. She haunts this bathroom, and no one dares bother her," said Hermione.

"That explains the smell," I said, taking the sword off my belt.

"Do demigods have a smell for everything?" Ron asked.

"I'm the daughter of Hades. My senses are fine-tuned for things in this field." I set my sword down next to the door.

"Why'd you take your sword off?" Harry asked.

"It's Stygian Iron, and ghosts hate the stuff. Don't want to make out possible witness crazy."

"Crazi_-er_," Ron muttered.

"At least _try_ to be nice. She's very sensitive, and we don't want to make her upset." Hermione stepped forward and opened the door. We followed her.

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was damp, gloomy, and depressing. It reminded me of home.

"Not bad," I said.

"Who's there?" demanded a harsh, miserable voice. Hermione led the way to the stall on the end.

"Hello, Myrtle, how are you?" I, followed by Harry and Ron, went over to look. The ghost of a girl, who looked like a student, was floating above the toilet. She had a glum bespectacled face, draped with dark hair, which was put up in long pigtails that hung from either side of her head.

Myrtle eyed Ron and Harry suspiciously. "This is a _girls'_ bathroom. _They're_ not girls."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted her. "No, they're not," I agreed. "We were just showing them how great you keep the place." I shoved my hands in my pockets, my eyes wandering approvingly round the room.

Myrtle huffed. "The daughter of Lord Hades _would_ be appreciative."

"We also wanted to ask you about the other night. I'm sure you've heard of the cat that was attacked just outside your lavatory," I said casually. "Did you hear anything or see anyone that night?"

"I don't know, I wasn't paying attention." Myrtle's voice rose slightly. "Peeves had been making fun of me and had upset me so much that I came back here to _kill_ myself. Then I remembered that I'm—that I'm…"

"Already dead," Ron supplied. My eyes widened; I'd had her almost perfectly calm, and for her type, a simple phrase like that could cause serious problems.

Myrtle uttered a rather horrible, shrill whine, rising in the air and diving headfirst into the toilet, splashing water everywhere. I reacted the quickest, using the shadows around me to form what I like to call 'Dark Energy', which I bent into a solid shape that shielded me from the toilet water. Unfortunately, the others weren't spared.

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, that was the cheeriest I'd ever seen Myrtle."

"How did you calm her like that?" Harry asked me as we headed for the bathroom exit.

"I know her type. She's what we Underworld-dwellers call a Class 8 sulking lingerer. Dad sends me out to visit known ones all the time and try to coax them to the Underworld. I have to sit in on after-death therapy session for hours on end. Gods, I remember the time when—"

I was interrupted by a loud voice as we exited the bathroom that even made me jump.

"RON!"

It was none other than Percy Weasley (or, as the twins referred to him behind his back, 'Perfect Prefect Percy') and he didn't seem very happy that his brother was coming out of a _girls' bathroom_.

I tuned out their argument, figuring it was a family moment.

**oOo**

That night, I sat in the Common Room with Harry, Ron, and Hermione while they did their homework.

I'd already finished mine; I did all my homework at night and used Ambrosia to keep me awake; this way, I had more free time.

I was reading a book on Quidditch when Ron suddenly snapped his book shut, followed by Hermione. I looked up at them.

"Who could it be, though?" Hermione said in a low voice. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think," said Ron sarcastically. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

"If you're talking about Malfoy—"

"Of course! You heard him—_'You'll be next, Mudbloods'!_"

"I know what he said. But Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?"

You both make sense." I said, putting down my book. "He _does_ hate Muggle-borns, but then again, _look_ at him. How _could_ it be him?"

"But look at his family," said Harry, also closing his books. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin for centuries; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries, handing it down, father to son," Ron put in.

"Well, that rules out the 'total impossibility' factor," I said, looking at Hermione. Reluctantly, she agreed with me.

Hermione brought up a way to find out: the Polyjuice Potion. She explained it to the best of her memory. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called_ Moste Potente Potions_, and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

"So, how are we gonna get it?" I asked. "We'd need a form signed. By a teacher. You know, _authority_ that could get us in trouble for even _thinking_ about making the potion."

"I think if we make it sound as though we're just interested in the theory, then maybe—"

"Oh, come on. No teacher's gonna fall for that," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick."

"I raised my hand as if we were in class. "I got it."

**oOo**

I disliked suggesting Lockhart, especially after he spread my secret to everyone; he'd even started saying ridiculous things, telling ludicrous stories of times he "beheaded a hydra", "burnt a Cyclopes to a crisp", and even "drowned a naiad"("Okay, this guy's a total fake," I'd said). But he was by far the thickest teacher out of all, and the perfect one to fool.

After a class of drawing and writing notes to Ron and Hermione—Harry'd gotten called up to reenact one of Lockhart's 'adventures'…again—Lockhart assigned a poem to the class as homework. As I packed my bag, I tried to think of one right away, but I couldn't make up a good one that didn't start off with "there once was a douche from Nantucket."

After waiting for everyone to leave, we finally approached Lockhart. Hermione stammered through the whole thing, but finally got to the point and Lockhart signed the slip without even looking at the book title.

"So, Harry," he said, "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if you ever feel the need for private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players—"

Seeing—and feeling—that Harry was greatly disconcerted, I stepped in.

"Yeah, maybe some other time, Professor," I said, steering Harry toward the door where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"Ah, Raven! I'd also be glad to oblige if you need any lessons on swordplay—"

"_Let's go_," I said through my teeth, practically pushing the three through the door.

We got the book from the library and went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No one ever went in there, and all Myrtle did was sulk silently or cry noisily in her stall.

Hermione read off the ingredients, none of which I was even remotely familiar with.

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione?" said Ron. "We're going to have to break into Snape's personal stores or something."

Hermione snapped the book shut, but before she could start on him, I said, "Oh, that's easy. I can get in there."

"You sure?" asked Hermione.

"Sure. Stealth's my middle name. I'll need a diversion, though.

"How long will it take to make anyway?" Harry asked.

"A month."

"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could've attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" Seeing Hermione's expression, he added, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

I woke up the following morning, feeling Harry's nervousness. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. Hermione woke me up at 10:00 so we could head down to the Quidditch Pitch. After looking outside and seeing the gray, rain-promising clouds, I conjured up an umbrella using my Umbramancy.

We walked down to the Pitch, took our seats, and the game began. I squinted up at Harry, who had flown higher than any of them. Looking at the rest of the game, I was dismayed to see that the Slytherin's brooms were indeed faster than Gryffindors.

_Damn. Why didn't I try out? They could use my Firebolt about now._

I gasped softly as my heart rate accelerated for a moment. I looked back at Harry; Fred and George were hovering around him, protecting him from a Bludger that kept coming back.

"What the hell…I'm not the only one seeing this, am I?"

No one heard me.

Wood called a time out as rain began to fall. I opened my umbrella, sitting down to make binoculars from the shadows. The game resumes, and Hermione held the umbrella to cover the three of us while I kept an eye on Harry, as it seemed he decided to go without the team's beaters aiding him.

I began to lose track of him as he swerved and banked to get out of the Bludger's path. He stopped for a second and the Bludger rocketed after him.

I was about to shout "Look out" or something, but the Bludger connected with Harry's elbow and a fiery pain filled my arm.

"Holy shit!" I shouted, clutching my arm and falling to the floor of the stands.

"Raven! Raven are you okay?" Hermione asked frantically, ignoring my blatant swearing.

"I'm fine! It's Harry! The Bludger—urgh!—I think his arm's broken!"

Hermione helped me up as Harry caught the Snitch and in the process fell to the ground.

I felt a slight pain in my back as Harry landed in the mud.

"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!" announced Lee Jordan. "Gryffindor wins!"

"Let's go," I said darkly, still clutching my arm.

**What is this lead on the Chamber of Secrets that Raven wrote down? Review to guess, and you will be rewarded with money.**

**OK, not really, but do it anyway.**

**New chapter coming soon (:**


	5. Journeys to the Underworld

Raven's POV

Clutching my arm, I hurried down to the field. As I followed Ron and Hermione, my arm continued to burn. I tried eating Ambrosia, to no effect, because it was Harry's pain I felt, not my own.

The entire team and most of the Gryffindors had gathered around Harry and I couldn't see a thing. I pushed my way toward the center and my two friends (and only friends) did the same.

My initial plan was to conserve my energy so I could shadow-travel Harry to the Hospital Wing, but once Hermione, Ron and I reached the center, Professor Lockhart twirled his wand in the air and pointed it at Harry's broken arm.

"No!"

I lunged forward, but stopped suddenly when the pain faded from my arm and was replaced by the most uncomfortable sensation. It felt as though the bones in my arm had been substituted by Silly Putty. I flexed my fingers, insuring that I could still move them. The same could not be said for Harry, whose right arm looked as limp as—well, Silly Putty.

"Ah. Yes, well, that can sometimes happen," Lockhart said in an attempt to explain his obvious mistake, "But the point is that—"

"Yeah, thank you, Professor!" I said lifting Harry by his arm that _had_ bones and slinging it over my shoulder. Rom and Hermione held onto me as I Shadow-traveled, to the surprise of Madam Pomfrey.

To spare you the unnecessary details, we helped Harry into a bed; I sat on another bed next to Harry; I had to feel Skele-Gro burn Harry's throat; we left Harry to regrow his bones.

It was a rough night for me. I kept waking up with prickly pains in my right arm. I tossed and turned all night. Finally, with the curtains of my four-poster closed, I lit my wand and began doffing through my bag and robes pockets for something—_anything_—to get my mind off it,

In my robes pockets, I found a small piece of paper. It was the note to myself I'd written during History of Magic. I unfolded it and, written in Ancient Greek, were four names:

_Godric Gryffindor  
Helga Hufflepuff  
Rowena Ravenclaw  
Salazar Slytherin_

Suddenly, my plan flooded back to my mind. How could I have forgotten? I shouldered my bag, the paper clutched in my bag.

The next thing I knew, I was on the black shores of the River Styx, as tired as I've ever been. I quickly fumbled for my Nectar and drank it. I regained my energy and sat up. I stood and walked along the banks of the River, waiting at the port for someone I normally avoided talking to.

Charon docked the ferry twenty minutes later, and a long queue of spirits unloaded.

"Hey, Charon!" I called. I boarded the Ferry since he wasn't allowed off it during his eternal shift. He turned to look at me, an expression of annoyance on his face.

"Listen, godling, I'm in no mood for games. I'm on a tight schedule—"

I tossed him a small satchel of Golden Drachmas. I had anticipated this reaction.

Charon peered inside the bag. Looking back at me, he said, "Make it quick, godling."

I showed him my paper. "I know you remember ferrying these people. And I know you know where they went."

"I might recall it," said Charon.

"Well, a lot of peoples' lives are hanging on the answer to the question I am about to ask you, and I know you don't want extra work, so you will answer me. Where did they get judged?"

He glanced at the paper and smirked. "Godric, Helga, and Rowena _might_ be found at the Isles of the Blest. Salazar _might_ have decided to not chance himself, so he _might_ have chosen Asphodel." He pocketed his bag of gold and shoved me off the ferry. "But you did _not_ hear that from me." He pushed off from the shore and was gone.

I stared after him, considering this. I jotted down this new information as I felt Harry's pain subside. I groaned. I wasn't allowed in Elysium, where the Isles of the Blest were located, and it would take me forever to fish out Salazar in Asphodel. My fatigue caught up to me as I Shadow-traveled back to Hogwarts.

I don't know what room I ended up in, but it had a bed, so I passed out in it.

I woke up the next morning and realized that I was in a bed in the Hospital Wing with the curtains drawn. I sat up and stretched silently, and I heard Madam Pomfrey's voice near the curtain.

"There you are, dear. Now, let me see you…"

I peeked out of the curtains. I was in the bed just next to Harry's where Madam Pomfrey was testing his arm.

I waited until she had gone before I opened the curtain wide and said, "Boo."

He jumped. "How long have you _been_ there?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Relax. I passed out here last night."

Then we both started talking, eager to tell our stories of last night. To be polite, he let me go first. I told him that I went to the Underworld for information. I didn't get much, but I got _something_. Then he told me about Dobby (after he'd explained who he was) coming to visit him and about Colin turning up Petrified.

While he got dressed and went to Myrtle's bathroom, I dropped my stuff off at the Common Room. I took a swig of Nectar to take care of my headache and joined my friends in the damp, dark bathroom.

**oOo**

December rolled in, signaling my stepmother's absence from Olympus. Professor McGonagall had people who were staying at school during break sign a form. After explanation, I was exempt from this because, since I can Shadow-travel, I came and went during the holiday break. Harry, Ron, and Hermione signed it and we quietly discussed our plan over breakfast.

"The holidays will be perfect for finding that rat out," whispered Ron.

"But the potion's only half done," said Hermione. "We still need you to get us the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin," she said looking at me.

I shrugged. My hair had grown long over the months, and I took my sword and sliced it. It was now spiky and uneven and came down only to my neck, with the exception of the front, which was just long enough to shade both my eyes. "Sure," I said emotionless, as always, "but somebody has to distract Snape. I don't want to pop in while he's in there."

"Potions class would be a perfect time," said Harry. "We distract him; pop, you're in; you get what we need; pop, you're back out; and we're set."

"Sounds like a plan."

It was a pretty good plan. I did pretty well in potions and Snape would suspect me last. The only spot on my record was muttering "Double, double, toil and trouble," while stirring my potion. So, during Potions, I waited for the signal of the distraction. And, knowing the boys, I waited for an explosion.

BOOM

With demigod reflexes, I conjured Dark Energy to shield me from the Swelling Solution that splashed everywhere, after which I quickly Shadow-traveled. Five minutes later, I had the necessary ingredients in my bag.

A week later and a week away from the completion of the potion, a dueling club had started. I, of course, was stoked to learn how to kick ass with my wand as well as my sword.

So at 8, we went to the Great Hall for the first meeting.

How disappointing to learn that the class was being led by none other than Loose-lips Lockhart. He was standing on a long stage that spanned the length of the Hall, looking as pompous as ever. But on the bright side, standing at the opposite end was Snape. How lovely it would be to see Snape unleash hell (figuratively) on Lockhart.

"Gather round, gather round! Can anybody see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent." Lockhart, of course. "Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club to train you all up in case you ever need to…" By then, I had tuned him out.

I snapped to attention when Snape and Lockhart pointed their wands at each other.

"Two Sickles on Snape," I whispered to a Hufflepuff girl.

"You're on!" she whispered back.

"_Expelliarmus!_" A scarlet light flashed from Snape's wand and collided with Lockhart, knocking him the the other end of the stage.

Grudgingly, the girl I'd bet handed me two sickles. "Thank you," I said smartly. She stuck her tongue out at me. 'Oh, yeah, real mature,' thought as I turned back to the stage.

"Do you think he's alright?" Hermione squeaked, craning her neck to see Lockhart.

"Who cares?" the boys and I chorused.

Unfortunately, he was and he got up and forced a confident look "An excellent idea to show them that, Snape. That was the Disarming Charm, ladies and gentlemen. Good work, Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do…"

He finally noticed Snape's expression and decided to put us into pairs. I got paired up with some boy from Slytherin. He was a head taller than me and had the smuggest face, as though beating me would be easy. I smirked inwardly, knowing it wouldn't.

"Wands at the ready!"

The Slytherin drew his wand and readied it while I yawned lazily and scratched the back of my neck.

Lockhart counted: "One…Two…Three!"

As soon as he'd cast the spell, I drew my sword and held it in front of me. The spell hit it. Just like it did when I stabbed monsters, it sucked the energy from the spell and harnessed it for itself. Good ol' Nightmare.

It hummed slightly with power when Snape barked at me.

"Necros!" I turned to him. "Wands only!"

I rolled my eyes and sheathed my sword. Snape came over, to make sure that I didn't kill this kid no doubt.

"Start over. Wands at the ready." I drew my wand, which might as well have been a miniature version of my sword. The boy did the same, not looking nearly as confident.

"One…Two…Three."

"_Expelliarmus!_"

My opponent was knocked back, not just behind him, but instead collided with the wall…on the far side of the Hall!

After that, Lockhart called up a 'volunteer pair', meaning a pair was chosen. Harry and Malfoy were called up onto the stage. I bet with another girl five Sickles that Harry would win. I was confident. I was also eager to see Malfoy get his ass kicked.

I never got my Sickles, nor did I ever give that girl any. It was a tie, but its results were very important.

Not long after Lockhart counted to three and cried, "Go!" Malfoy cast a long snake onto the platform. Everyone except me backed away from the stage (I wasn't afraid of it) as the snake raised itself in attack position.

Snape was about to get rid of it when Lockhart interrupted and, as usual, made a bigger mess of things. His spell caused it to jump ten feet into the air, arc over me and land on the floor behind me. It turned, angry, to some student by the name of Justin, ready to attack.

Harry slid off the stage and walked a few paces in front of me toward the snake.

"Leave him alone!" he shouted at it.

The snake hissed at him as if to say, "Seriously? Can't I at least have a—"

Harry shook his head, and the snake backed off.

I smirked. I clapped him on the back. "Nice work."

But when I looked around, no one else seemed to share in my congratulations.

"What are you two playing at?" Justin demanded, his voice shaking in fright and anger.

Before I could figure out what he meant, Ron had begun dragging Harry out of the room and Hermione had grabbed my right wrist and did the same.

"Wait—the hell—?" was all I managed to say the entire way up the stairs and into the Common Room. Ron shoved Harry into a chair, whereas Hermione just let go of me near it and circled around next to Ron. And so the interrogation began.

"You're Parselmouths! Why didn't you tell us?"

"What?" Harry and I said together.

"You can talk to snakes."

"I know," said Harry.

"No," I said at the same time.

Our voices overlapping, I explained that I'd never spoken to snakes and Harry described his trip to the zoo. I ended before he did, and he finished with, "But so what? I bet loads of people can do it if Raven can do it, too."

"No, they can't," said Ron. "It's not a very common gift, Harry. This is bad."

"What's bad?" I could feel Harry becoming frustrated and angry. "If I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin—"

"Oh, that's what you said to it?"

"What are you people, deaf?" I half-shouted. "You were right there—_I_ was there—and all he did was tell it to back off! Didn't you hear it?"

"I heard you _both_ speaking Parseltongue. Snake language," said Ron.

"I spoke a different language?" said Harry.

"Wait—I spoke it, too?"

"No wonder Justin panicked," Ron continued, ignoring Harry and me. "Harry steps forward and hisses something at it—it bloody sounded like you were egging it on—and then she comes over and hisses something to you—like she was in on it!"

"But how can I speak a language without knowing I can?"

"Wait," I said, turning to Harry. "Remember that night in the Common Room, when you spoke Ancient Greek. You got that from me. I must've gotten Parseltongue from you. But where did you get it?"

"Why does it _matter?_" demanded Harry. "At least I saved Justin!"

"It matters," said Hermione speaking up for the first time in the conversation. "Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth—it's what he was famous for. That's why the symbol for Slytherin House is a serpent."

"So now the whole school's going to think you two are his descendants!" Ron added.

"But we're not!" Harry and I chorused.

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived a thousand years ago. For all we know, you could be."

Harry and I exchanged looks. I rounded on Ron and Hermione, giving them each a Child-of-Hades Death Glare. They both backed up and sat in chairs at the sight of my eyes.

"_I_ can prove it!" I grabbed my bag from my corner. "And I will." I Shadow-traveled with one last glare at the three of them.

Hermione's POV

Raven had told me of the Death Glare, and I hoped I would never have to see it, but when she looked at me, her eyes turned black for a moment, then returned to normal. My stomach felt as though it was melting and I was involuntarily filled with fear I'd never felt.

She didn't show up for classes the next day. Wherever she went, she apparently hadn't finished.

Harry began wondering if he could communicate with her mentally. When it didn't work, I made a note for myself to remind Raven to work on that with Harry.

**(A/N: Sorry about the rapid POV change, I just thought I'd add that.)**

Raven's POV

I woke up the next morning in Asphodel, having collapsed the previous night. I got up and made my way to the dungeons of my father's palace.

Just beneath the dungeons is where all the records are kept of deaths and family lines. As you can imagine, it is quite full. I spent all day in there, filing through paper after paper, when I heard a voice behind me.

"Playing hooky?" said the silky voice of my stepmother.

I groaned, turning to her. "Please, Persephone, don't tell my father I'm here. Just let me work on this, and then I'm back in school."

"How about I let this slide, provided you leave. _Now._"

As you can probably tell, my stepmother and I don't have the best relationship.

"Look," I said through my teeth, "I'm just looking for Salazar Slytherin's ancestry."

"And whatever for, may I ask?"

"There's a good chance that I and a friend of mine might be related to him! I have to find out. He might be a descendant of my mom's—"

Persephone bared her teeth. "Don't—mention—that _woman._"

My brow furrowed. "You knew my mom..."

My stepmother's eyes widened and her lips pursed, but she answered, "We never formally introduced, no, but I know of her."

"What happened to her? At least tell me that."

Persephone's eye twitched. It only did that when she was super-pissed.

"Please. I have no mother-figure in my life, other than you. No one to talk to about life, about school, about love, no one. At least tell me who I should be pissed at for depriving me of that!"

Her eyes softened as she considered. She sighed. "Come with me. We'll discuss this in the Garden."

'Holy Hades, the Garden! This is going to be a serious talk' I thought.

As we sat on the patio overlooking the Garden, she began her story.

"There's a reason—a personal reason—for us sending you to that school. A reason your father wants Voldemort dead.

"It was the summer of 1922 and your father had met this girl. They fell in love and had you. Your uncle Zeus found out quickly about you. When you were five, a prophesy was made and Zeus demanded your father hand you in. Hades refused. He hid you with your mother and a year later, you were brought to the Lotus Hotel and Casino.

"But many years later, Zeus found a pawn, a mercenary. This mercenary went by the name 'Voldemort'. Zeus promised him power, the usual empty promise, for he did not swear upon the River Styx.

"One night, Voldemort snuck into your mother's house, and your mother was the only one there. He figured he might as well settle for someone you and Hades loved. Only after Voldemort killed her did your father appear and cast him away. He immediately took you from the hotel, modified your memory, and began raising you in the Underworld. You were six, physically."

I stared at her, unbelieving. How could that bastard of an uncle do that to me, to his brother?

"But…He and Zeus…they're not—"

"Oh, no. Once Zeus found out Voldemort had failed, their alliance was broken."

I stood and began to pace. My mind was reeling with questions, all of which seemed unanswerable. "I just can't believe it…"

Persephone stood. "Alright, you've stalled long enough," she said, back to her normal stern self. "I won't tell your father, but you'd better get your ass back to school, or so help me, I will turn your hair into baby's breath, do you understand me?"

I nodded and did as she asked.

"Ow!"

I Shadow-traveled and landed in a corridor on top of a student.

_**Revised 7/23/2011**_


	6. The Interrogations

Harry's POV

I walked down the corridor, as angry as I've ever been. I had just left the library and had overheard a conversation between several Hufflepuffs. How dare they—sneaking around, making snap decisions, implying that—

Before I could finish my thought, the corridor grew very cold and became darker. I stopped walking for a moment, furrowing my brow, my anger quickly fading into confusion. If I had kept walking, I suppose my back could have been saved the sharp pain as something solid and heavy rammed into it.

The student who had just appeared in the corridor and I fell to the floor; they landed on top of me, forcing the wind out of my lungs. As we landed, my glasses were knocked off and there was a clatter as they, along with something else metal, skid across the stone floor. We both exclaimed in pain and surprise. They rolled off me and I took a deep breath. I coughed as my lungs filled painfully, picked up my glasses, and sat up to see a dark blurry figure, which, after I put my glasses on, I recognized as Raven.

She was trying to get up, using the wall for support. Her head kept dropping and her eyelids seemed heavy. She looked tired. She was almost upright when she lost balance and knocked over a suit of armor, which fell apart. I stood and hurried over to make sure she was okay.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a metal canteen that had Ancient Greek symbols on it, which I recognized as Raven's initials. I picked it up, assuming it contained that drink that could heal her.

Raven was pushing bits of armor off her body, clutching her head above her right brow. She was attempting to sit up but was having difficulty doing it left-handed.

I stood and reached a hand to help her up. She took it, and I pulled her to her feet. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to convince herself, then removed her hand from her head. The metal from the armor had cut a two-inch gash just above her right eyebrow It had begun to bleed and stain her brow, and her hand had smeared it. I wondered how she managed to maintain an emotionless expression. She wiped the wound with her hand, only smearing the blood further.

"Sorry," she said, sounding as tired as she looked. "You okay?"

"Where have you been?" I asked without answering her question.

As we began walking, she told me about her search to find the record of Salazar Slytherin. She even told me about her conversation with her stepmother. I couldn't help but feel angry at Zeus and Voldemort, which, I quickly became aware, only fueled her anger. Then I told her about what I overheard in the library.

"Wait," she said after I'd finished. "They think that we're the heirs of Slytherin?"

"Close. They think that _I'm_ the heir and _you're_ my little sidekick."

"Oh, no damn way am I _anyone's_ sidekick!" she said. After a few moments, she added, "Who do they think we are, Slytherin's Batman and Robin?"

I laughed at the analogy. I remembered watching the cartoon while Dudley watched. Of course, I was busy slaving away for the Dursleys while I did, but I at least snuck in a little entertainment.

Raven managed a smirk, grasped my shoulder and pointed at the ceiling, pretending to have spotted the Bat-Signal.

"Holy Bat-Signal, Batman!"

"To the Batmobile, Robin!" I said.

She stepped in front of me, began walking backwards and mimicked driving the Batmobile while humming the old cartoon theme. For the first time in weeks, I laughed so hard my sides began to hurt.

"Na-na na-na na-na na-na BATMA—Oomph!"

She tripped backwards over something rather large, hitting her head on the hard floor. I stopped laughing, and I could feel the color fading from my face. She was sprawled over Justin Finch-Fetchley.

Just beyond Raven and Justin was what was left of Nearly-Headless Nick. He looked stiff; I'd say dead if he weren't already.

Raven cursed in Ancient Greek (I believe the correct translation is 'shit') loudly. Her ADHD probably caused her to say it louder than she had intended, but whatever the reason, students and teachers began flooding the corridor. It was easy for them to get the wrong idea: Nearly-Headless Nick, Raven atop Justin, and me standing over them. Raven scrambled to get up, and there was an uproar. Raven and I were cornered against a wall, surrounded on all sides by a wall of accusations:

"Caught in the act!"

"—couldn't kill Nick, so you got Death Girl, eh?"

"—she _was_ in on it! I knew—"

"—hope you're satisfied, you—"

The teachers restored order and ordered then back to class.

Despite our protests, Professor McGonagall led us to Dumbledore's office. She left us there to face our punishment alone.

…Dramatic.

Raven's POV

It was the second time I'd been in Dumbledore's office, this time not out of my own accord.

I looked around. The room hadn't changed much since the first time. Except…

"Whoa," I whispered. I saw a phoenix, standing atop a perch. I glanced at Harry, who had picked up an old, grubby-looking hat. My attention returned to the phoenix. I found myself smiling, despite the fact that this was a creature that had cheated death.

But it looked old; most of its feathers had molted and had fallen into the small, shallow basin beneath its perch. 'It must be ready to go' I thought.

Harry's voice caused my head to once again turn in his direction. He had put the hat on and was muttering seemingly to himself.

I rolled my eyes, looked back at the phoenix, and reached up a hand to stroke its head. Its eyes blinked and it moved its head away suspiciously. I showed it both my empty hands so it knew that I meant it no harm. Reluctantly, it allowed me to stroke its side. I laughed quietly.

It looked into my eyes, as if reading my personality and seeing who i was. It then turned to the wound on my forehead, which had stopped bleeding for the moment. It let out a small gurgling chirp, leaned over, and began leaking tears on my wound. My mouth uncontrollably hung open as the tears melted my wound away. My stomach warmed as i felt my forehead and the wound had vanished. I moved my hair to cover my face again.

"Thanks," I breathed in slightly less than a whisper.

"You're wrong," I heard Harry say. I looked at him as he put away the old hat.

"What's that?" I asked, still stroking the phoenix.

"The Sorting Hat," he answered, still looking at it. "I was just—whoa." He'd turned around and saw the phoenix. He walked over and I quickly drew my hand back away from it. It had begun to smell of sulfur, which meant that—

Fwoom

The bird burst into flames.

I smiled as it reduced to ashes, which fell into the basin underneath it. Meanwhile, Harry's heart gave a surprised jerk and he stumbled back in shock.

Before I could explain that this was natural, Dumbledore entered the room.

Harry's POV

Dumbledore's bird caught fire, and Raven just watched it, _smiling_. I was shocked. What would Dumbledore say if he—

Right on cue, Dumbledore came in. Before I could explain what happened, Raven spoke up.

"It seems it was his Burning Day." She said, peering into the small bowl underneath the bird's perch, where the ashes had fallen.

Dumbledore smiles in response. "About time, too. He's been looking dreadful for days."

"Well, for his sake, I hope he's in better shape normally than on his Burning Day."

I was completely confused. "Will somebody please explain this?"

Dumbledore crossed the room toward us. "Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry," he said. "They burst into flame when it is time for them to die and then they are reborn from the ashes."

"How long does he normally take?" Raven asked, peering curiously into the basin. As she did, the small head of a bird slowly lifted its head out of the ash. She smiled warmly, a rarity.

"I suppose I should hate these beings. After all, they cheat death. But I've always been fascinated by them. I mean, they carry things heavier than a hellhound, their tears have healing powers.." I lifted my bangs to reveal that my wound missing.

"Not to mention they make extremely faithful pets," said Dumbledore. He sat down at his desk, now serious.

"Now, about this business with Justin and Sir Nicholas."

Raven took her attention from Fawkes-the-baby-phoenix and she and I began to speak at the same time.

"Sir, I can explai—"  
"We were just passing by—"

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence us. "Relax. I do not believe that either of you attacked anyone."

We were surprised by this. "You don't think it was us?" we chorused.

"No, I do not, but I must ask…if there is anything you wish to tell me?"

I thought for a moment. I looked at Raven, who shrugged.

"No, sir. Nothing." I said.

Raven's POV

The next few weeks were rough.

I had grown numb to the rumors, the pointing, the hissing, and the whispers, but even the ghosts had grown wary of me. Before, they were rather submissive, calling me 'master' whenever I passed, seeming eager to do anything I asked. Now they took one look at me, bowed shakily, stuttered "M-ma-master," then got the Hades away.

Harry was getting sick of it as well. I was glad that a few of our closer friends agreed that the entire thing was bullshit. In fact, Fred and George and I were in the Common Room discussing business when the subject came up. They suggested something that made me laugh so hard, they went through with it. Sooner than I'd expected.

"Make way for the servants of Slytherin!"

"Pray to your personal god that they don't team up and steal your soul in your sleep!"

"Truly an evil dream team!" they said as they walked in front of us down the corridors, as if our personal valets or something. I was pleased that this brightened Harry's mood at least a little.

But the polyjuice potion was nearly ready. While they were interrogating Malfoy, I would be interrogating Salazar Slytherin.

I spent Christmas Eve at home. I had my first taste of Butterbeer and stayed up all night.

At around one o'clock in the morning, I decided to shop for my friends. At the last second, of course. I bought Hermione a pen and pencil set and a notebook from Barnes and Nobles. I found a nice MP3 player at a Best Buy that I bought for myself. I bought some Muggle Candy called RedVines for Ron and Harry. I also Shadow-traveled to Diagon Alley (and passed out for a few hours) to buy Harry some broomstick handle polish. I went home and wrapped each gift in black paper, then downloaded a few songs on my MP3 player.

Christmas morning.  
I received a fresh-baked batch of brownies from Aunt Demeter, and a bouquet of black carnations from Persephone, which I would pull apart later that night. My father always got me the best gifts; this year, he gave me a Stygian Iron ring with a skull on the front which I could use to channel my powers. It doubled my power when accompanied by my sword.

That evening, while my father and his wife and sister/in law got wasted, I snick away to one of the emptier areas of the Underworld and summoned a few skeletal servants to dig a grave-like hole. Once it was deep enough, I dismissed them and pulled out a six-pack of Butterbeer and a leftover roast. I tossed in the meat and poured out the Butterbeers one at a time, chanting in Ancient Greek:

"Let the dead taste again. Let them drink. Let them partake in the offering and let them remember. Salazar Slytherin, come to me!"

After a few minutes of summoning, a shapeless spirit came from the direction of Asphodel. I stared as it bent down at the foot of the grave, drinking the offering. When it straightened, it had taken the form of a tall, elegant-looking man with a rather pointy face and long, dark hair.

"Well, this is a very lively interruption in my busy schedule of standing around Asphodel forever," he said, sounding particularly bored. He looked me up and down. "Why have you summoned me?"

I was caught a little off-guard, but I said, "Your heir has returned. Again."

Salazar's spirit furrowed his brow. "Again, you say? …What year is it currently?"

"1992,"

He nodded, his brow furrowing deeper. "Much time has passed. 'Again' did you say?"

"Yes. Fifty years ago was the first time. Can't figure who it was or is, but they've returned and are attacking people with _your_ monster." I was a little annoyed. This wasn't going the way I wanted at all.

At this, Slytherin smirked but began to pace,

"I never expected my heir to return twice. Has anyone died yet?"

"Not this time, it's only petrified students. Now, no more questions." I drew my sword. "I summoned you here to answer a few of my own."

He smiled wryly. "Can you not figure it out for yourself? Surly the daughter of—" He looked behind me, and his smirk disappeared. "L-Lord Hades—"

"You are dismissed," said my father's voice behind me.

Salazar's form blurred and rushed back to Asphodel.

"Wait!" I kicked a nearby rock out of frustration. "Dammit, I was interrogating him!"

"Why were you questioning a founder of your school?" My father sounded more confused than angry, which was good.

I looked at him and the next question flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Was he your son?"

Hades' lips pressed into a thin line. His wild black eyes, the ones I'd inherited, wandered to the grave I'd dug and moved to refill it. I walked over and began filling it beside him.

"He was not my son," he said as we worked. "Nor is he your relative in any way." He looked up from his work to me. "Now, why are you obsessing over this?"

I explained what was happening at school, with the attacks and me and Harry being put constantly on the spot. He nodded slowly as he listened.

"So as we speak, they're interrogating someone who might be the real heir while I'm trying to figure this shit out.

"Well, you've gotten what you can. You'd better get back to school to share what you've gotten and gather what they've found.

I stood, nodded, and shouldered my bag. I furrowed my brow.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"If you knew what the monster was, you'd tell me, right?"

He, too, frowned. "I would if it's killed someone, which you say it hasn't. I will let you know what I can when I learn it."

I nodded, said goodbye, and Shadow-traveled into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

I was so tired, my vision became blurry. I groaned and sat down hard. A stall door opened a little and I heard Hermione's voice. "Raven, are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, attempting to sit up. There was a slam of a door as the stall door closed very swiftly. I looked at the door that was now between me and her.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you go with the boys?"

"I—"she squeaked, her voice very high pitched. But she was interrupted when both boys burst into the room. Their robes were much too large for them and Harry's glasses were missing.

"Well, that wasn't a complete waste of time," said Ron.

Harry grabbed his glasses from one of the mirrors, put them on, and noticed me. "Raven, you're back!" he said, looking pleased to see me. "Did you find anything?"

"Hit a dead end. Only found out that he wasn't my half-brother," I said. "How 'bout you?"

Meanwhile, Ron pounded his fist on the door of Hermione's stall. "Come out, we've got loads to tell you."

"Go away!"

We exchanged glanced as Myrtle floated over, looking pleased.

"Wait till you see, my Lady—"

"Just Master's fine," I said hastily. I hated the title 'Lady'. Makes me feel girly.

"Master," she amended, still beaming. "It's _awful_." She giggled.

Hermione reluctantly opened the door and showed us…

Three words: Catgirl on steroids.

"The Polyjuice Potion's only for human transformations!" she sobbed. "It was cat hair I got off Millicent Bulstrode's robes!"

All I did was stare blankly at her. My legs gave out and I fell to my knees.

We took her to the hospital wing and I gave her the gift I'd bought her then (Harry and Ron both enjoyed their gifts very much). For the next few weeks, we brought her the assignments she needed.

"She should be out of hospital in a couple of weeks," said Harry as we were leaving the hospital wing and headed down the corridors, "when she stops coughing up fur balls."

The three of us laughed, which was a rarity these days. But as we reached the next corridor, we noticed water on the floor. Not just puddles like before, but a deep layer of water.

"Uh-oh,"

We followed it to the source: Myrtle's bathroom.

When we entered, she was sobbing on the circular sill of the stained-glass window. When she saw us, she said, "What? Come to throw something else at me?"

"Why would we throw something at you?" I said soothingly, trying to calm her.

"Don't ask me." She straightened and floated down to the floor, still near the far wall. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me." She said miserably.

"But it can't hurt if someone throws something at you," said Harry. "I mean, it'll just go right through you, right?"

"Harry!" I hissed.

Too late. Myrtle floated over so fast, I blinked once and she was practically nose-to-nose with Harry.

"Sure! Let's all throw books at Myrtle because she can't feel it! Ten points if you get it through her stomach!" she thrust her fist through Harry's middle, much to his surprise. "Fifty points if It goes through her head!" she did the same with his head.

"But who threw it at you?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said a little quieter. "I was just sitting in the U-bend thinking about death, and it fell through the top of my head." She let out a long whine and floated off.

I looked at Harry and Ron, then scanned the floor for the book. It wasn't hard to find; it was small, thin, had a dark cover and, like everything else, was soaked. I walked over to it with Harry and Ron following me. I reached down to grab it, but before I could, my head began to ache and my gut tugged. I stopped and straightened.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"There's something…weird about it." I said vaguely.

Ron began to ramble on about cursed books. I didn't really pay attention to a word he was saying.

Harry picked up the book, which turned out to be a fifty-year-old diary belonging to someone named T.. Ron recognized the name from a Special Award for Services to the school.

"I don't know about this thing, guys," I said warily.

"It might have information in it," suggested Ron.

"No, it's blank," said Harry, who had opened the wet diary.

"What should we do with it then?"

Harry pocketed it. "I'll check it out later," he said.

Apparently he meant 'later' as 'let's just forget it' because, other than trying to see if it was truly blank and finding out who Tom Riddle was, the subject never came up.


	7. Awkward Detention with Snape

As winter made the slow transition into spring and February rolled in, the attacks ceased, but the students remained convinced that Harry and I were the cause of them in the first place.

Lockhart greatly enjoyed in taking credit for this cease of attacks, always saying how he must've scared the beast off. He also insisted on a 'morale booster', which occurred on February fourteenth, a day I was already dreading.

I walked into the Entrance Hall, wearing my usual black clothes with my hair over my tired eyes, which I was constantly rubbing. The girls in my dorm kept me up the previous night giggling and talking about boys and which one they liked. I felt like I was going deaf. Sighing tiredly, I pushed open the door to the Great Hall.

Being a daughter of Hades, I have a dislike—if not hatred—of all things girly. I hate the color pink, anything having to do with Barbie, you get the idea. So when I walked into the Hall and saw pink _everywhere_… My eyes quite literally burned.

I pulled my hood up and stared at the blackness of my hair in front of my face until I got to the table. I was thankful that Harry and Ron were both as disgusted as I was.

"Please, please, _please_ tell me that this doesn't happen every year," I begged.

They shook their heads. So I tried to ignore it; it all became impossible to ignore when Lockhart brought out dwarf-cupids.

"I'm gonna throw up," I said in disgust.

I decided before breakfast was over that I would skip classes for today to spare my eyes and ears the pain.

So, during classes, I remained in the dormitory, playing guitar (anything but love songs) and reading a book on the Salem witch trials. Every now and then, Hermione would come in between classes and give me a short "This is irresponsible" and then left.

I had no fear as I walked into dinner, not even as McGonagall handed me a detention slip. I translated it and read it. It said that I had been absent from all my classes—No, duh, I thought—and that my detention would be served that night with Snape in the dungeons scrubbing cauldrons from eight to whenever he released me.

Shhh-kh shhh-kh shhh-kh

I scrubbed cauldron after cauldron with a long brush. I sighed, disliking the whole thing. Each cauldron had a different rancid odor, each as nastier as the last. I sat at a table near Snape's desk as I worked while he graded papers. Neither of us spoke until I noticed an…essence—not exactly a smell—coming off Snape. I looked at him thoughtfully as I scrubbed.

He seemed to have noticed me staring at him and set down his quill in annoyance.

"What is it, Necros?"

I caught myself and turned my attention back to the gray-green crust I was scrubbing off the bottom of the cauldron.

"Nothing, Professor, I just… couldn't ignore your essence."

He took it the wrong way; he contracted his greasy eyebrows.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

I looked at him. "Not like that. I sense…pain, regret, frustration…death…coming from you, You must dwell on it often, or it wouldn't be so strong that I could sense it."

Snape's eyes widened and his lips pursed, but he sighed and answered, "I made a few wrong turns, wrong choices, and it ended up in the death of a loved one."

I furrowed my brow, but nodded and said nothing.

"Since we've strayed onto the subject," Snape began, leaning forward in his desk over the apparently forgotten ungraded papers but still maintaining the surly look he always wore, "you can commune with the dead, am I correct?"

"Yeah…" I said, not sure where he was going with this.

"Say…someone who died eleven years ago. Would you still be able to?" He kept the same tone of voice he always had, but I could tell that he was leading up to something else.

"Depends," I said simply.

"On what?"

"On where they get judged."

Snape leaned back in his chair, still giving me a quizzical look. "Judged?"

I stopped scrubbing and explained that people get judged after death based off how they acted in life. Snape nodded.

"Say…someone who lived a relatively good life."

"Then they'd be judged into Elysium."

Silence.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Would you be able to commune with them?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"I'm not allowed in Elysium or to talk to anyone from Elysium."

"Why not? Is it not your dominion?" He had begun to sound frustrated.

"It's my father's dominion, and it's prompt for a bet, believe it or not."

He gave me yet another puzzled look.

I explained the prophesy and that my father and I had made a bet that if I wasn't the Child of the Prophesy, then I'd be allowed to visit Elysium. Snape grumbled something like: "—wait four years—"

"You can at _least_ summon the dead, am I wrong?"

"I can, but not from Elysium."

"_Raise the dead?_"

"No." Before he could yell "Why not?" again, I said, "It would be unnatural and I, of all people, must respect the Laws of Death."

"What about the Resurrection Stone?" he stormed.

I furrowed my brow. I'd only heard of the Stone in stories.

"I don't know how you know about it, but the Stone is very complex. It was never meant to fully bring back the dead. No one can fully bring the dead back to life, not me, not my father."

He scowled at me for a few minutes and my ADHD made it hard to keep still.

"You may leave," he growled finally, snatching his quill and scribbling corrections all over some unfortunate student's paper that I doubted were incorrect in the first place.

"It's not my fault that—"

"Get—OUT," he said without looking up.

I stood, wiped my hands on a formerly clean cloth, and headed toward the door.

"And unless you want another detention, you will speak of this to _no one_," he called to my retreating back.

"Yes, sir," I said automatically over my shoulder, and then exited the room. As I walked through the dungeons and up the stairs, my mind reeled with questions. I wondered who Snape had wanted to bring back. Who could he miss so much? Were they a close relative? A good friend? Perhaps—and I shuddered at the thought—more than a friend?

I forced my mind to stop at that thought as I entered the Common Room.

I hadn't realized how late it was until I walked in to find the Common Room empty. I looked around in case one of the twins were to jump me (Which they've done before) and noticed the open book on the desk. I furrowed my brow and walked over.

It was Tom Riddle's diary.

It was now dry, but just as empty. Cautiously, I reached a hand to flip a page.

I drew my hand back quickly as the seam in the middle of the pages began to bleed bright streams of light. I backed up a few paces, my eyebrows close together and my eyes wide. In a blinding flash of light, a figure was thrust into the chair; as my blurred, spotted vision returned to normal, I recognized him as—

"Harry?"

He swiveled around in his seat, looking excited.

"I know who did it!"

"Did what?"

"It was Hagrid!" he exclaimed. "Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago!"

**oOo**

"It can't be Hagrid, it just…can't be," said Hermione as we walked down the noisy corridor toward the next class. By then, Harry had told us the entire story of what he had seen in the diary. Once was enough for me, but Ron and Hermione kept asking him to tell them again and again.

We decided to do nothing about it unless there was another attack. Frankly, I found it all a little hard to believe. I mean, sure, Hagrid had a taste for questionably dangerous creatures, but I'd never thought him to be the type that would send any out after students.

Nothing much happened over the next few weeks and months. Professor Sprout informed us in Herbology that the Mandrakes were nearly ready, it was just a matter of time.

When the time came, I had a slightly difficult decision when it came to choosing classes for the next year. I decided to take the same classes as Harry and Ron, with the exception of Divination. I took Muggle Studies instead.

"But don't you know practically everything about Muggles?" Ron demanded.

I shrugged. "Gotta pass at least one subject. Besides, it's not my place to be messing around with that Divination business. Leave that to Apollo and the Oracle."

"Oracle?"

"You know, someone actually blessed by Apollo to give prophesies, like the Great Prophesy."

"What's the Great Prophesy?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"That one I told you about, the one about a child of the Big Three turning sixteen."

I sat alone in the Common Room much, practicing my guitar. I'd begun learning how to play the theme for Quantum Leap, a TV show I enjoyed. There were a few other students, but not many. Most of them had gone out to watch the Quidditch practices. I barely noticed when Neville walked by and headed up the staircase. I did, however, noticed when he yelped and ran back down and ran straight out of the Common Room. At first, I was concerned, but then I reminded myself that Neville could be scared by nearly anything. So I went back to playing.

Several minutes later, though, he and Harry rushed through the portrait-hole and up the stairs, trailed by several other boys in our year including Ron. I let the shadows that composed my guitar diffuse and followed them. I pushed my way to the doorway. I stood there, my mouth agape. The entirety of Harry's possessions were trashed, ransacked, torn open and thrown everywhere.

"Damn," I said. "It must've been a Gryffindor."

"Aye," put in Seamus Finnigan. "No one else knows our password."

"Whoever it was, they must've been looking for something," said Ron, picking up the remains of a textbook.

"And they found it," said Harry, who had just finished rifling through his belongings. "Tom Riddle's diary is gone."

The next day was a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. On the way out of the Great Hall, Harry heard the voice again. This time, I heard it as well.

"_Kill this time…let me rip…tear…kill!"_

Hermione got an idea and rushed to the library.

Ron and I went up to the stands waiting for the match to start. Just before it did, McGonagall made the announcement that the match had been cancelled.

There was an uproar of protests and groans from all stands and Ron and I tried to make our way down to the Pitch to find out what the hell was going on.

Surprisingly, she was looking for us as well. Harry was at her side and she told us there was something the three of us needed to see.

She led us to the Infirmary. "There has been another attack—another double attack."

My heart splashed into my stomach, sending a cold wave throughout my middle. We passed by Madam Pomfrey tending to a Ravenclaw girl.

"I warn you, this may be a bit of a shock," said McGonagall as she drew back the curtains of the next bed.

Hermione lay deathly still on the bed, her eyes glassy and unblinking. She had a look of sudden, shocking realization on her face and her arm was raised as though she had been holding something. Her hand, though, was empty at the moment.

"They were found near the library. Along with this." She held up a small, circular mirror. "Does it mean anything to you?"

We shook out heads, still staring at Hermione.

McGonagall escorted us back to the Common Room. Harry, Ron, and I had a long, silent conversation on the way.

It wasn't often that all the Gryffindors were in the Common Room at once. We quickly found out why when McGonagall came in carrying a roll of parchment. She called us to attention, unrolled it, and began reading it.

"All students will return to their house common rooms by six o' clock every evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no evening activities."

She rolled up the parchment and looked around the room at the openmouthed faces of the Gryffindors. As they all broke into their own conversations, she approached me.

"And absolutely _no_ Shadow-traveling."

I gaped at her. "But Professor—"

"No excuses, no exceptions. Those are the rules. And trust me; they are set with your well-being in mind." With that, she left.

It wasn't long before the twins approached me.

"What did she want you for?" asked George (By then, I'd learned how to distinguish the two from each other).

"She told me not to Shadow-travel." I told them

"Oh, right," laughed Fred. "Don't want you sneaking out—"

"—to steal the soul—" George interjected.

"—of some innocent student!" they said together.

I rolled my eyes, smirking. Leave it to the twins to cheer me up. My rolling eyes fell on Percy, sitting in a chair near the fire, looking almost as pale as me.

"Um…is he…" I pointed at him.

"He's in shock," said George. "That Ravenclaw girl—Penelope Clearwater—she's a prefect. I don't think he thought the monster would dare attack a prefect."

"He wouldn't," I agreed. I looked over and saw Harry and Ron whispering to each other. When they saw me looking at them, they waved me over. I muttered a quick "See you later" to the twins and walked over.

"We've got to talk to Hagrid," whispered Harry. "I can't believe it's him, but if he did set the monster loose last time, he'll know how to get into the Chamber of Secrets. That's a start."

"But you heard McGonagall. We're not allowed to leave the tower except for class," said Ron.

They both looked at me, and I raised my hands in surrender.

"Don't look at me, shadow-travel's out." They both sighed in disappointment.

" I think it's time to bring my dad's old cloak out again."

Managing to fit the three of us under the cloak, we sprinted across the grounds in the pitch black night. We knocked on the front door of Hagrid's hut, and a rather large crossbow greeted us. Once Hagrid recognized us, he lowered it and sighed in relief.

"What's that for?" Harry whispered as we walked in.

"Oh, nuthin'—er—I've bin expectin'—doesn't matter—How 'bout a pot o' tea?" he offered.

We sat down at the table as he made tea. His hands shook noticeably and when he tried to fill a tea cup, he overfilled it and hardly noticed.

"Are you alright?" I asked, taking the overfilled cup.

"I'm fine. Fine," he muttered, nodding.

"So, did you hear about Hermione?" Ron asked him.

"Oh, I heard abou' that alrigh'," Hagrid replied.

A knock on the door caught our attention. Quickly, we got back under the cloak and retreated to a far back corner. Hagrid took up his crossbow again, answering the door.

Skipping the awkward situation of the conversation including Cornelius Fudge, Dumbledore, and even Lucius, Draco's dad, Harry, Ron and I sat back and listened to the entire thing. I took a couple elbows to the ribs when I nearly cursed aloud at Malfoy. As they were about to take Hagrid away, he ended with a strange, but rather obvious clue.

"If anyone were lookin' for some stuff, then all they'd have to do would be to follow the spiders. Yep. That'd lead them right to it."

And he was gone.


	8. In Which We Follow the Spiders

**A/N: SOOOO sorry for the delays. It was attack of the plotbunnies. Anyway, please review after you read (:**

Chapter 8: We follow the Spiders

"Why did you make me leave my sword, again?" I demanded the boys as we shed the cloak.

"The ghosts would've sensed it and caught us, I told you!" said Harry.

I sighed, snatching the cloak from Harry's hands. I looked back at him, almost ready for him to say, "Hey, that was my dad's!" or some form of protest, but both he and Ron were both staring at me expectedly.

"What?" I asked, throwing the cloak into a chair.

"Do the thing you did when you found the spiders," said Harry.

"Wait, what?" said Ron to Harry. "I thought we wanted to get the bloody hell back to the Common Room!"

I shot Ron a dirty look. As I did, my eyes focused past him and saw a queue of spiders crawling through a crack in the window.

"No need," I said, ignoring Ron's statement. I pointed. "Look."

They turned and Ron, who was closer to the window, jumped back.

I was already starting toward the door.

"Dim the lights," I said, using my ice cold fingers to extinguish the fire in a lamp on the table as I passed. Harry blew out a few more lamps and Ron didn't take his wide eyes off the spiders.

I opened the door, letting Harry out first. I had to tug Ron out of his trance and force him out of the hut.

We circled around to the window where I lit my hand with black flames, which gave off a dim light; just enough to see, but not enough to give us away. The line of spiders I'd found continued down the side of the hut and joined a longer, larger group of spiders that led straight to the Forbidden Forest.

"We have to go in," I said grimly.

"What?" Ron, of course.

"You heard Hagrid: 'Follow the Spiders'. That's what we've gotta do," said Harry, who began walking toward me.

"This is mad! They're heading into the Forbidden Forest!"

I looked at him. "You can stay here and wait for us to come back in the dark with gods-know-what crawling around out here."

Ron paled. "Fine," he said tersely.

"Good. Let's go."

I led the way, seeing as I held the light. The long parade of spiders led to a burrow. Now, instead of one single-file line, spiders came in from all directions, in even larger numbers. I also noticed that they were getting larger in size as well. Some of them were as large as raccoons or bigger.

I looked back at the boys. Harry has a determined look on his face and Ron looked ready to shit his pants. I ducked into the hole. They followed me into the tunnel.

None of us dared to touch the spider-covered walls in fear of disturbing whatever was on the other end. The tunnel opened into a cave; the walls were draped—almost dripping—with long, wide spider-webs. On the other side was a large hole that was halfway in the floor, halfway in the opposite wall.

Kgish! Something made a loud noise like a mix between a rash and a thud. Something big.

"Who is it?" said a very breathy, old-sounding voice. Another Kgish! "Hagrid? Is that you?" it wheezed.

"We're friends of Hagrid's!" said Harry. His voice sounded a little higher than usual. "He sent us here!"

"Hagrid has never sent men into my hollow before." Kgish!

"Um, actually, I'm a—"I cut myself off; the biggest spider I'd ever seen emerged from the hole on the opposite end. "…woman," I finished, my voice now awe-filled. Ron was now pale, wide-eyed, mouth agape and whimpering like a lost puppy.

"And you…You're Aragog, aren't you?" asked Harry.

"Yes. Hagrid has never sent men into my hollow before..." Aragog repeated like a senile old man.

I didn't fear Aragog. In fact, I was in awe. Almost a respect for him. I was at a loss for words. Whereas Ron was about to piss his pants and Harry seemed like the only one who remembered what we were there for.

"He's in trouble," said Harry. "Up at the school, there have been attacks. They think it's Hagrid. They think he opened the Chamber of Secrets. Like before."

"That's a lie!" wheezed Aragog. "Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"Then you're not the monster?"

"No. The monster was born in the castle. I came to Hagrid as a boy... in the pocket of a traveler."

"But what is it? The monster?"

"We do not speak of it. It is a beast we spiders fear above all others."

"But have you seen it?"

"I never saw any part of the castle but the box in which Hagrid kept me. The girl the monster had killed was discovered in a bathroom. When I was accused, Hagrid his me away here."

"Harry…" Ron breathed, shaking his sleeve.

"What?" said Harry, sounding slightly irritated.

Ron looked up. So did Harry and I. Dropping slowly from the ceiling by their own strands of web were dozens, if not hundreds of spiders the size of chairs all around us.

Harry swallowed, looking back at Aragog.

"Well—thank you. We'll just—go."

"Go?" said Aragog. "I think not. My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid on my command, but I cannot deny them fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Goodbye, friend of Hagrid."

Well, so much for that.

As the spiders closed in on us, I drew my wand and handed it to Ron, whose was of no good use. I then reached for my sword. Wait—shit! I'd left my sword back in the Common Room!

"Dammit, guys!"

We stood back to back to back. I turned my mind over for options. I couldn't afford to waste too much energy summoning the dead. The spiders got closer. Geokinesis wasn't an option either—

Wait. Geokinesis. I could summon Stygian Iron. I could call my sword to me.

I concentrated hard and kicked a spider and Harry shot a spell. Ron's hand that held my wand was outstretched and shaking like mad.

Finally, a shining sliver of black rushed toward me. I caught it in midair and stabbed the nearest spider. It squealed and its legs curled in agony as my sword literally sucked the life out of it. It was reduced to ash. I grinned an admittedly crazed grin.

Just as I raised my sword again, a bright light filled the cave. The light startled the spiders and they backed away from it quickly. A blue Ford Anglia came into view.

Driverless, it drove toward us and screeched to a halt.

"Come on!" Harry yelled, and we clambered in. I got in last, fending off a few spiders. Without any of us even touching the wheel or pedals, the car began driving off at full speed through the tunnel and out into the forest. The spiders attempted to chase us, but as the trees thinned, they seemed to doubt the safety of the grounds and retreated.

The car stopped next to Hagrid's hut and we got out.

"Follow the spiders!" Ron exclaimed, slamming his door shut. "If Hagrid ever gets out of Azkaban, I'll kill him!"

"Shut up!" I hissed. I snatched my wand out of his hand, pocketed it, and sheathed my sword. The car fish-tailed and drove away.

"I mean, what was the point of sending us in there?" Ron went on. "What have we found out?"

"Hagrid never opened the Chamber," Harry and I said in unison.

I don't know how I got to sleep that night, but I did. The next morning was one of those mornings that I did NOT want to get up, but I dragged myself out of bed by the mere motivation of hunger. As soon as I set foot in the Common Room, two hands grabbed my arms and dragged me to the side.

"What?" I snapped at Harry and Ron as soon as they'd let me go.

"Remember that girl that died fifty years ago? She died in a bathroom." said Ron.

"So?"

"What if she never _left_?" said Harry.

I gaped at the two of them. "Of course!"

**oOo**

Bad news: exams were still on. Good news: The mandrakes were ready.

But besides that, I'm sure you'd rather hear about our attempt of an interrogation with Myrtle.

Well, we were being escorted to History of Magic by Lockhart, my least favorite teacher. But again, he proved to be the easiest to fool, because we convinced him to leave us alone in the corridor. We got briefly caught by McGonagall, but she let us go after I told her we were visiting Hermione. Upside was, we weren't in trouble. Downside was, now we had to actually visit her.

I couldn't help but stare at her face as I sat on the nightstand next to her hospital bed, my hood up as always. It sucked; the last we'd seen her, she had figured something out. Had she discovered something we had yet to? Or had we already figured it out?

Harry held up a balled up old sheet of paper that he'd removed from Hermione's frozen hand. He opened it and Ron and I looked over his shoulder at it. But it was written in English, so I immediately got a headache just looking at it.

"Read it aloud." I groaned, rubbing my eyes. Harry began reading in a whisper.

"Of the many fearsome beasts that roam our land, none is more deadly than the Basilisk, king of serpents. This snake may reach gigantic size and live for hundreds of years—"

"Whoa, wait!" I exclaimed. Both Ron and Harry shushed me, and I whispered, "That's what's been attacking people isn't it! What else is on there?"

Harry skimmed it. "Spiders flee before it, it kills my looking at people in the eye; she's right, Ron. It all fits."

"Let's not discuss it here," said Ron.

Two minutes later, we walked slowly through an empty corridor.

"So, if the monster _is_ a basilisk and it kills by looking people in the eye, why is it no one's dead?" said Ron.

After a short silence, I said, "Because no one's looked it directly in the eye."

"Right," said Harry. "Colin had his camera—"

"And Justin must've seen it through Nick," I said.

"And Hermione had the mirror."

"And Mrs. Norris?" said Ron.

"There was water on the floor that night-" said Harry.

"So she had only seen the basilisk's reflection." I said. Harry and I had begun to sound like Fred and George.

"But how's it been getting around? A great big snake, someone must've seen it."

Harry pointed to a word written on the bottom of the page that looked to me like a jumble of gibberish.

"Pipes. It's been using the plumbing."

"Remember how Aragog said that the girl it killed fifty years ago was found in a bathroom?" I asked. "Why would it be in a bathroom? Unless it came from—"

"_Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom!" _we chorused.

Just them, McGonagall's voice echoed through the corridor. "All students are to return to their dormitories. All teachers to the second-floor corridor immediately, please."

"That's not far," I said. "Let's see what's up."

We rushed down the hall, nearly rounded the corridor, and backed up when we saw the teachers huddling around the opposite wall. We pressed our backs against the wall as we peeked around the corner to see what they were doing.

"As you can see, the heir of Slytherin has left another message!" said McGonagall, sounding extremely worried. The teachers all crowded around and none of us could see what was written. "Our worst fear has been realized. A student has been taken by the monster into the Chamber itself!"

"What is to be done?" asked Professor Sprout.

"The students must be sent home. I'm afraid this is the end of Hogwarts."

Lockhart picked that moment to arrive late.

"So sorry. Dozed off. What have I missed?" he asked, smiling stupidly.

"A girl has been snatched by the monster," Snape informed him, "Your moment has come at last."

The grin was practically smacked off Lockhart's face. I laughed quietly.

"What?" breathed Ron, who was in the back. We repositioned ourselves to where we could all three see, in which Harry was standing straight, I was stooping, and Ron was squatting.

"M-my mo-moment?" Lockhart stammered.

"Weren't you saying just last night how you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber is?" said Snape.

Lockhart looked at a loss for words.

"Well, that's settled," said McGonagall coldly. "We'll leave you to deal with the monster, Gilderoy."

He took up his confident façade again. "Very well. I'll just be in my office getting…getting ready."

The teachers began to disperse.

"Who is it the monster's taken, Minerva?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Ginny Weasley."

Ron sat down hard.

As the last of the teachers left, the message was revealed, which Harry read aloud for my benefit.

"Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever."

"Ginny…" Ron whispered breathlessly.

We sped toward Lockhart's office. No, correction: Harry and Ron ran to Lockhart's office while I tagged along wondering why we didn't just let him die in the Chamber.

When we reached his office, he was running around and throwing things into suitcases. He immediately stopped when we walked in. All three of us furrowed our brows.

"Are you going somewhere?" Harry demanded.

"Er—yes, well—" he began packing again. "Urgent call—unavoidable—gotta go—"

"What about my sister?" Ron yelled.

"Well—" more packing, "As to that, most unfortunate—no one regrets more than I—"

"You can't pussy out now! You're the DADA teacher!" I pressed.

"Well, I must say, when I took the job, there was nothing in the job description—"

"You're running away?" said Harry. "After all that stuff you did in your books?"

"Books can be misleading!"

"You wrote them!"

"My dear boy, don't you use your common sense? My books wouldn't've sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things!"

I glared at him—the Death Glare. Like the coward he was, his legs gave out and he sat down hard in a chair. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction amongst my outrage.

"You're a fraud!" Harry accused. "You've just been taking credit for what other wizards have done!"

"Is there anything you _can_ do?" Ron demanded.

"Yes, now that you mention it. I'm rather gifted with memory charms. Otherwise, those wizards would have gone blabbing and I'd never have sold another book."

My scowl deepened. Screw the rules. I Shadow-Traveled to the dorm and grabbed my sword. When I came back, Harry and Ron had their wands pointed at Lockhart.

We took the blundering idiot to Myrtle's bathroom.

I sheathed my sword as I entered the bathroom with them.

"Myrtle?" I called. "I need to ask you something."

She poked her head through the closed stall door, as only a ghost can do, then floated out with wide, almost innocent eyes that were magnified behind ghostly spectacles. She said nothing, but I could tell that she was wondering what I wanted that the boys and Lockhart (who was shaking like a fall leaf) wanted to know.

"I know it's not a subject that you feel like talking a lot about, but could you tell me how exactly you left your life?" I tried to put it in away that didn't patronize her or force her to tell us. But surprisingly, she looked flattered.

"Oohhhh," she said airily. "It was dreadful. It happened right here," she pointed to the stall she'd just come out of, "I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in."

"Who was it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know!" she said snappishly at him for interrupting her obvious trip down memory lane. "I was distraught!"

After a breath (so to speak), she said, "But they said something funny, some other language. And then I realized that it was a boy speaking, so I unlocked the door to tell him to _go away_ and…I died."

"Just like that?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well, the last thing I remember seeing was a pair of great big yellow eyes over there by that sink." She pointed toward the circle of sinks behind them.

We all turned to look. I muttered a thanks to Myrtle and all of us approached the sink.

Harry told it to open up, evidently in Parseltongue. The top of the circle of sinks was magically lifted off and they all began to space out, moving outward, and the one that Harry had spoken to slowly sank into the floor. All this revealed a large hole in the floor in the middle of all the sinks, large enough for even Neville to slide down.

This was the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

**POLL: Should I write out the POA based one or just summarize it in the next one? (I've already decided, but answer anyway and post legit reasons) Thanks, Update as soon as possible, I SWEAR.**


	9. In the Chamber and What Happened After

I stepped toward the opening to the Chamber, my hand gripping the hilt of my sword ready to unsheathe it. I looked down; the tunnel seemed to curve off in another direction about twenty feet in.

"Excellent," said Lockhart behind me. I turned and looked. He was smiling confidently. I furrowed my brow as he continued. "Haha, good work. I'll just be on my, um— There's no reason for me to stay!"

He tried to make a run for the door, but Harry and Ron grabbed him and shoved him toward the entrance. I moved out of the way so he would fall in, but he grabbed the sinks on either side of the gap and stopped himself. Harry and Ron aimed their swords at him and I drew my sword. Myrtle shrieked at the presence of Stygian Iron and retreated to her toilet.

"You first," I growled, aiming my sword at his chest.

"Now, now, what good will it do?"

"Better you than us," said Ron.

"Well—I—obviously, yes…" he said weakly, turning around and looking down into the hole.

Looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to test it first?"

I kicked him in his ass and he fell in, screaming the entire way down and landing somewhere at the bottom with an echoing thud.

"It's really quite filthy down here," he called up, proving that he survived the fall.

I sheathed my sword and looked down. I turned back to the boys.

"Who's next?" I asked.

"You can do it, Raven," said Harry confidently.

"Ladies first," Ron added.

I rolled my eyes. Boys can only be gentlemen when it suits them. I smirked, saluted them, and jumped in.

I hadn't been down a slide my entire live, so this experience was a BLAST!

"Whoo-hoo!" I exclaimed on the way down. The tunnel curved off to the right and arced in a long angle. Then it forked and I sped down the left tunnel, which ended quickly and I landed on a pile of rodent skeletons. Lockhart was standing there stupidly, looking as though something might jump him at any moment. Not like it wouldn't. You never knew.

I heard the boys' screams on the way down their own tunnels and shortly after, Harry landed on my right and Ron on my left. I drew my sword again and Ron kept his wand on Lockhart.

"Remember. Any sign of movement, close your eyes straightaway," said Harry. He started down one tunnel. I followed just behind him, and Ron pushed Lockhart along. After a while, we saw a long shape ahead in the dim light. We readied ourselves for anything and I lit my hand with a ball of blue fire.

The added light revealed that it was only a snakeskin; like the kind that snakes shed, only much bigger than any garden snake. Much bigger.

I put my sword away and bent down to look closer at it, my left hand still aflame. Still in a crouch, I began moving along it. I was fascinated by it, not to mention relieved that it wasn't the real Basilisk.

…On the other hand, I was practically itching for action. I hadn't stabbed anything that would fight back and burst into gold monster dust in _months._

Harry was a few yards ahead of my, running a hand along it.

I straightened and tensed out of reflex as I heard a heavy thud, then rolled my eyes when it was just Lockhart who had fainted. Just as I was turning back to the snakeskin, Lockhart grabbed Ron's wand and pointed it at each of us in turn.

He went into this long boring speech about how he would wipe our memories, which I paid no attention to. As he spoke, my hand crept slowly to my sword hilt. 'Wait for it,' I told myself mentally.

Lockhart pointed the wand at Harry. "So, you first, Mr. Potter. Say goodbye to your memories." I tensed and clenched my fist around my sword handle in anticipation.

"Obliviate!"

I drew my sword and lunged in front of Harry.

Had the wand actually _shot_ the spell, my sword would have absorbed it. Instead, the wand backfired forcefully and sent the idiot flying into the wall.

The force of the explosion caused a small rock slide. The kind that didn't last long, but consisted of very large rocks.

"Heads up!" I shouted. I turned around and grabbed Harry, who was closest, sending the two of us toppling to the ground (sound familiar? If not, refer to chapter 6). We narrowly avoided a particularly large rock. Once we landed, I immediately threw my hands up and, using up quite a bit of energy, created a wall of black between Harry, me, and the rocks.

The sound of falling rocks stopped and Harry and I stood. My head slowly began to pulse, so I let the barrio diffuse. When it vanished, it revealed another large wall composed of rocks.

Harry and I exchanged looks of horror. Either Ron was on the other side or…well, what else is there to choose from, considering the rocks that stood before us?

Turning back to the wall, we screamed, "Ron!" in unison.

To our immense relief, he responded, "I'm okay! But we're separated! What do we do?"

"You and Raven stay here and try to shift some of this rock so we can get back. I'll go on and find Ginny."

I turned to him. "Wait, what?" I was supposed to just sit here moving rocks while Harry played hero with Ginny and whatever else was further on.

"I know that the two of you can do it," Harry replied calmly. "I'll be right back." He turned and headed down the tunnel. "Hopefully," I heard him mutter.

**oOo**

"Ron, back up!" I said grudgingly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but his voice was further back in the tunnel.

"These rocks are pretty tight. I'm gonna see if I can loosen them up a bit. After that, all we have to do is move them out of the way." I drew my sword and held it in front of me.

"Who is that? I can't see them. Are they invisible?" said another voice that sounded like Lockhart's, only minus the annoying cocky confidence and adding this weird clueless air.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that Lockhart?" I asked.

"Lockhart? Is that my name?" said Lockhart.

"Yes," said Ron to Lockhart.

"Really? Is it?" Lockhart replied.

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at me.

"Yea. His memory charm backfired, and now he hasn't got a clue who he is."

And I thought he was annoying before.

"Well, look out anyway, you two." I called.

Gripping my sword tighter, I tried to muster up some of the energy I had left. Concentrating, I focused it on the rocks at the base of the pile.

The rock wall seemed to come to life. All of the rocks began shifting to get out of the way of the ones I was moving.

I could feel my energy depleting by the second, so I let the rocks drop. They landed with a loud thus and the ones on top moved to create a small gap near the ceiling. The wall was now a loose pile. I sheathed my sword, rather pleased with myself.

I cocked my head as I heard the sound of an old, loud, creaky metal door opening and closing slowly. _Harry._

I turned back to the rock, then at the tunnel behind me.

I was faced with a choice: Stay and help Ron or go and help Harry and possibly assist in the destruction of a basilisk.

I chose to go.

I climbed the rock pile to the small gap that I could probably fir my head into but not my shoulders.

"You good, Ron?"

Ron emerged from the shadows, looking annoyed. I soon learned why; Lockhart was trailing behind him. He looked high and seemed fascinated by every brick in the tunnel.

"I must say, this seems like an odd place," he said, grinning stupidly. "Do you live here?"

"No," Ron responded, sounding like a tired parent in a seven hour long car ride with a six-year-old who wouldn't stop saying "Are we there yet?"

"Really?" said Lockhart again.

Ron picked up a rock and struck Lockhart's cranium with it, and the man fell unconscious.

"Good work," I said approvingly, smirking.

"Thanks. You, too."

"Okay, this should be easier now to move. I'll see if I can go ahead and help Harry. He might need my sword to defeat the Basilisk. Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like a plan. This shouldn't be too hard," Ron responded.

I nodded and dropped down to the floor. I took a deep breath and headed in the direction Harry had traveled.

I soon came across a shut, circular, metal door that had half a dozen bronze snakes on it, which started at the hinge and each met a certain point, equally spaced, around the door. A squiggly line snaked underneath the neck of each snake.

There was no knob, not even a lock. I furrowed m brow.

Wait. _Snakes._ Maybe I had to speak to it in that weird snake language.

I imagined the snakes were real and told the door to open up. It didn't move. I tried again. On the third attempt, I got it right. Another metal snake emerged from the wall on the hinge side and followed the squiggly line around the door. As it passed, the snake in its path backed away, allowing it to slither on. Once the moving snake had gone all the way around and disappeared into a second hole, the door slowly opened.

I swallowed hard to rid my mouth of the growing amount of spit in it, and then it became uncomfortably dry and I regretted it.

I continued on past the door into what I assumed was the Chamber of Secrets itself. It was lined with rather large statues of heads of snakes and had shallow rectangular pools of water on either side, making a narrow marble pathway to the head of the room (and I mean that literally, there was a giant statue head at the other end).

I could see Harry and another boy, about sixteen, and Ginny sprawled on the marble in front of yet another pool of water.

I knew she wasn't dead; I could feel her life energy, no matter how low it was.

From where I stood, I heard the other boy speaking to Harry, but the acoustics in the room were terrible and I couldn't make out a word.

Most of his attention was on Harry, so I tried to sneak over as silently as I knew how. As I got closer, I began to hear more of this boy's vigorous speech. I hid behind a pillar and listened.

"…a baby with no extraordinary magical talent was able to defeat the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care how I escaped? Voldemort was after your time," Harry countered.

"Voldemort is my past, present, and future."

Things were silent for a moment, so I looked and saw that the boy was writing something in thin air with a wand that I recognized as Harry's. I couldn't tell what he was writing. Then, he waved his—Harry's wand and the words all jumbled and formed something else. I looked away and clenched my eyes shut as a large headache was triggered.

"'I am Lord Voldemort,'" said Harry, and I assumed that was what the other boy had written. "It's you. You're the heir of Slytherin. …You're Voldemort.

My eyes widened to their maximum capacity.

Voldemort.

I glared at the air in front of me; my chest had begun to fill with rage and my ears with a rushing noise. Standing a few meters away was the man who had slaughtered my mother, the man who my uncle had used to betray his brother.

"You BASTARD!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

My sword long forgotten, I jumped out from behind the pillar, sped past Harry, and tackled teenage Voldemort.

My body flew through his as though he wasn't there, and I splashed into the 'shore' of the pool, which was about a half-inch deep. I slipped and fell to my knees and turned back quickly. I hadn't hurt him, but he was startled nonetheless. He turned had around to stare at me with wide eyes.

Stupidly, out of blind rage, I lunged again. This time, he caught me by the neck.

_Totally unfair!_ I thought as I struggled against his grasp. _So he can touch me but I can't touch—_

My thoughts were cut off when he jabbed his thumb into a nerve in my neck. MY arms fell limp.

Voldemort regarded my face, and I wanted so badly to kick his in.. I tried, but my legs refused to work right.

Voldemort slowly smirked.

"The daughter of Hades," he said darkly. His grip tightened, and I gagged. "This changes things," he said more to himself than me or Harry.

He then threw me headfirst into the nearest marble pillar.

I can't recall if it hurt. I felt my hair becoming wet as I slowly lost consciousness.

**oOo**

"Raven?"

Someone was calling me. Their voice sounded faint, far away. I was waking up; I felt that I was sitting up, in a chair.

I groaned as someone poked my shoulder, which felt bruised. I had a huge headache and a sharp pain at the very tip of my skull.

"She's waking up!" said the same voice from before.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," I heard an older voice say. "Take your sister and parents to the Infirmary, and see to it that you all get a nice mug of hot chocolate."

I opened my eyes with difficulty; the lids felt as though they were made of lead. The first thing I saw was a pair of green eyes behind round glasses and a mess of black hair.

There was really only one person that could be.

"Did I miss the party? Where the hell's my butterbeer?" I said tiredly. I sat forward, rubbing my head. When I pulled my now wet hand back, it was covered in a mixture of blood and ink.

"Damn, I need a shower." I muttered.

"So, you're awake," said Dumbledore. I looked around; Harry and I were in chairs next to each other back in Dumbledore's office, Fawkes was now a young phoenix, and Dumbledore was at his desk, smiling warmly.

"How long was I out?" I asked them.

"An hour, maybe." Said Harry.

"Well, what'd I miss?" I asked eagerly.

"Well, there's too much to tell," said Harry. He turned in his seat to face me full on and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Okay then, now, just remember, sit still, deep breaths like last time," I said with a smirk. I turned toward him and let my essence delve into Harry's mind. I got a brief overview: Harry was chased by the Basilisk; he killed it with the sword of Gryffindor, which had appeared out of the Sorting Hat, which Fawkes had flown in with; He stabbed Tom Riddle's diary with a fang and Tom died, Fawkes took all of them and me (unconscious) out of there, and they got help for Ginny and Lockhart; Ron was sent by Harry to get my Nectar from the Common Room to help heal my cracked skull, then I woke up.

"Dammit, I missed all the action!" I exclaimed as soon as I had left Harry's mind. "I was looking forward to kicking some basilisk…" I remembered Dumbledore was in the room. We hadn't told him about the connection. When I looked, he was looking at Harry and me strangely. "…ass," I finished.

We hastily explained the connection between me and Harry. He nodded.

"It sounds as though this could prove useful. I strongly encourage practice and strengthening this bond.

"Well, it already affects me slightly," I said. I feel whatever Harry's feeling, physically and mentally. But that's mostly it."

"Then it would be best to make you two discover any other abilities you might share through this connection," he advised.

We promised to.

I left shortly after that, walking past Lucius Malfoy and a small creature at his feet. I ignored them; the first thing on my mind was _Get to a shower!_

After I had cleaned up, changed clothes, and pulled up my sweater hood, I went down to the Great Hall for the celebratory feast.

I ate half-heartedly and almost didn't notice when Hermione came back (Come on, I'm not _heartless_; I _did_ say hi and was happy she was back) or when the exams had been canceled.

I admit I was glum. I was clad and all that Harry had beat Voldemort or whatever, but I hadn't done anything and nothing changed for me. Go ahead and call me selfish, but you would be depressed if you were _nothing_, the outcast, the freak, the daughter of Hades.

At the end of the year, all the students were boarding the train. I hung around the back, and my only friends stuck around with me. I was talking to Ginny when I heard a group of first-years scream. My attention turned instantly to the direction I heard it from, as did everyone else's.

A small brigade of _dracaenae_ emerged from the forest, all brandishing swords and shields.Some of the older students were shooting spells of all kinds at them, but they just bounced off their scaly skin harmlessly.

I drew my sword and ran over.

"Get back!" Everyone close to the monsters scrambled away, leaving a twenty-foot gap between them and the forest and giving me and about fifteen snake-women to fight.

The one at the front, who seemed like the leader, smirked and hissed loudly.

"Ahhhhhh, the daughter of Lord Hadesssss. We thought we ssssmelled demigod blood." She sounded just like the ones from America, only with a British accent mixed in there.

I growled. "Shut the hell up!" I screamed. I stabbed her in the chest, directly through her armor. My sword took her energy, harnessing it, and immediately it felt lighter and more balanced. She exploded into gold dust and the others looked hesitant. I moved on to the next one, slicing it in half, then decapitated the next one, then stabbed the one after that. Five of them charged me at once, attempting to take a slice at me, but I easily dodged and killed them all.

When I looked back at the crowd that I had forgotten was there, everyone was staring at me with wide eyes. I sighed. Great. Just great. How much more of a freak can I—

Out of nowhere, everyone began cheering. For me. I raised my eyebrows. This was _really_ unexpected.

I managed a rare, small smile. I sheathed my sword and took an over-theatrical bow.

Professor McGonagall grabbed my outstretched wrist and pulled me aside. She congratulated me and asked me to assist in setting up another to add to the many protective boundaries against the monsters that would most likely come after me again. So I found myself walking around the grounds for an hour chanting in Ancient Greek. I bid my teachers goodbye when I was done and ran to the station as fast as I could.

When I got there, the train had left.

I wasn't worried. I quickly pulled from my bag my Firebolt and took off.

I hadn't taken it out in such a long time, I had forgotten how exhilarating it was. I caught up to the train in no time.

I thought it best not to draw attention to myself, seeing as this broom was really expensive and not many people could afford it, so I mostly flew near the top of the train. I landed on it, putting my broom away, and (with great difficulty) managed to get to a door. I got in quickly, nearly flying off the train.

After pacing the aisles, I found the compartment containing Harry, Ron and Hermione, got in, and collapsed in the seat, exhausted.

"Where have you been?" all three of them chorused.

I explained that I had been putting up an extra boundary at school. Nothing unwanted could get in without permission other than students and teachers. I changed the subject, and we all started talking. The candy lady came by, and I bought another chocolate frog and Ron and Harry got several candies that I wasn't at all accustomed to.

They both insisted I try some kind of Jelly Beans, and, after I finished my frog (I got a card that displayed a picture of a past minister of magic) I tried one. It tasted like roast beef and I nearly choked on it, I was so surprised.

We finally felt the train slow and stop at Platform 9 ¾. We said our goodbyes.

Harry wrote down his home phone number and handed it to me, Hermione and Ron, with an explanation to Ron about how it worked.

I handed mine back, telling him I couldn't take it.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Demigods and phones don't mix. Might as well send up a flare to monsters saying 'Eat me please'."

He laughed and I smirked. I reached into my pocket.

"But if you ever want to call…" I tossed him a golden Drachma. He looked at it strangely and pocketed it. Then I told them that if they ever wanted to write me, they could either call for my owl (I taught them how to call for her in Greek) or send my letters to a spot in Los Angeles that I regularly visited.

After that, Hermione hugged me goodbye and was soon followed by Ron and Harry. I blinked, but hugged them back. I had never been hugged by friends, let alone been in a group hug.

We went through the barrio to the Muggle world and I saw who Harry was going with. I scowled.

"Expect me over a lot," I whispered to him. He smirked but didn't say anything.

After more goodbyes, I exited Kings' Cross and walked down the streets of London. I reached a dark, barren alley and I shadow-traveled back to America.

For a moment, I felt lost in America. I felt like I didn't belong. I smiled when I realized that I didn't belong here. I wasn't normal, and I was different from all of these people. I was a Demigod…but now, I was also a witch. And a witch was exactly what I wanted to be.


	10. BONUS CHAPTER!

**_This happened the night I accidentally made the connection with Harry. This happened to both of us, so I will write both sides of this tidbit of our super long story together._**

Raven's POV

I went to bed, wondering if I had just made a huge mistake or what. Somehow, I made it to sleep, but I had a really, really strange dream.

_I saw a boring-looking house on a boring-looking street with boring-looking people living there. No my type of place. At that point, I just wanted to wake up when I saw a small skinny boy open the door to one of the houses from the inside. Luckily, these were one-digit-numbered houses, so I could tell read the gold letter on the door: 4._

_I looked closer and I looked a lot like—_

'_Harry,' I thought. I couldn't really talk; this was a dream after all._

_The scene changed to what I assumed was his first time out to the zoo—it skipped to this glass pane disappearing and this snake getting loose—then being shut in a small cupboard under the stairs._

_It slowed slightly at this part and I saw his miserable expression._

'_Alright, if I find whoever thought leaving him with these people was a good idea, I'll have a 'pleasant conversation' with them,' I thought_

_Then I saw him become friends with Ron and him meeting Hermione—then I saw him put on this hat that shouted the word "Gryffindor!"—then I saw this ugly giant-like thing with a club trying to kill Hermione and the three of them becoming friends—then I witnessed their encounter with a three-headed dog. This confused me because I had thought that Cerberus had been the only one._

_After that, I saw Voldemort for the first time. This was a vision of Harry's first sight of him as well. I hated him. I hated him so much. He was in the middle of his speech when I rounded on Harry._

'_Why are you just standing there? He killed your parents! He killed my mother! Do _something!_'_

_Harry didn't hear me of course._

_Just then, some dude whose head Voldemort was on the back of lunged at Harry and burned at Harry's touch. Literally. He was reduced to ash._

I don't know why I woke up, but I did. I stared at the ceiling, unable to go back to sleep. I didn't remember the majority of the dream, but it felt important and worth remembering somehow.

Harry's POV

I sat up in bed for a long time, thinking about what this connection between me and Raven meant. Did it mean she could read my mind? See my memories?

I shook myself. I was freaking myself out. I lay down and tried to keep this out of my mind. This was apparently an impossibility with my subconscious.

_I had no idea where I was. Nothing was familiar. There was a house on a street where the houses looked nearly identical and were very tightly spaced. I saw a dark man was skulking down the street, occasionally looking over h__is shoulder, as though hoping not to be followed._

_So I followed him. It was only a dream._

_Wait. It was just a dream, right?_

_The man opened the door to Number Twenty-Four and he entered._

_The scene shifted abruptly._

_A young Filipino woman with long, wavy black hair was sitting with her daughter, a six-year-old, on the floor playing a card game. They laid down a card from their stacks in their hands face-up. Both of them laid down fives of clubs._

"_War again, Raven," she said. Her accent was in-between Filipino and American._

_I stared at her, then at the little girl before me._

'That's_ Raven?' I thought. She looked just like she had at school, only much shorter, with much longer hair drawn back in a ponytail, and much less pale._

"_I—declare—war," said Raven. She__ whooped in excitement after she placed two cards face-down on the floor and then an ace of spades face-up, which, apparently, beat her mother's Jack of diamonds. She then took all of the cards as her own._

_I smiled. I had never seen Raven so energetic about anything. So happy. They both looked up w__hen the dark man entered the room, wringing his hands._

"_Daddy?" said Raven. _

_I looked at the man more closely. He was dressed in all black, with his black hair slicked back out of his pale face._

'_So, this is Raven's father…Hades,' I thought._

_By Raven and __her mother's expressions, it was evident that her father hadn't visited often._

_Hades regarded his daughter with a small, very brief smile. He turned to Raven's mother._

"_I need to speak with you, Nicole. It's important."_

_Nicole's face darkened. "Um…Raven, w__hy don't you find another game in the closet and set it up in the living room? Your father and I need to have a talk." She pulled her wand from her pocket and waved it; the cards flew into a neat stack in front of Raven._

"_Okay, mom," sighed Raven. Instead __of doing what her mother asked of her, she picked up the card deck and took them to the living room, where she flopped down on the couch and shuffled them absent-mindedly._

_Once her parents had ascended the stairs, she threw the stack of cards onto the coffee table and crept up after them. I followed her, wondering what she was thinking. She had a look of determination on her face, such that I had never seen on a six-year-old._

_Down the hall, Nicole and Hades had just disappeared into the bedroom and I could __see a concerned expression on her face as she shut the door. Raven snuck over silently and sat down by the door, pressing her ear to the wall. That was hardly necessary; I could hear every word that was spoken inside as he stood by her. _

"_Is there a proble__m?" Nicole asked._

"_It's my brother. He's becoming more and more paranoid by the day." Hades said. I heard the bed mattress creak as though he had just sat down._

_I furrowed my brow, trying to remember who Hades' brother was._

"_Your brother. Zeus?" Nicole gasped in shock. I could tell this was very troubling news._

_I squatted by the door next to Raven, who now had a frightened expression on her face._

"_Yes. She demands that we hand over our daughter," Hades said slowly, as though trying to word it properly._

"_But__—we can't! She's just a little girl. And you didn't break the deal. Why would he want my baby?" Mrs. Necros sounded distraught. This caused her daughter what looked like great discomfort to hear her mother in a panic._

"_He thinks that she might be the chil__d of the Prophesy. He doesn't want to take chances," Hades explained._

_My eyes widened. I wondered what Zeus would—_

_Nicole interrupted my thought with the same question._

"_What does he want with her, what'll he do to her?"_

_Hades was silent for a moment._

"_Like I said, he won't take chances."_

_Nicole gasped and the mattress creaked a second time as she sat down next to him._

"_We can't let him take her away, Hades," she said in a whisper. I guessed it was to keep from shouting._

"_I know. That's why…I think she __should be put into the Lotus Hotel and Casino."_

"_What?"_

_Raven frowned. I was relieved that I wasn't the only one who didn't know what that Hades was talking about._

"_The lotus hotel is a place where time stands still. A week in there is a few decades in real time. There, she will be safe from my brother's wrath."_

"_But—my baby—"_

"_She will be fine," he assured her._

_Nicole sighed. "I…I just want what's best for my little Raven. She should go to the Casino."_

_Raven let out a low sigh, possibly breathing for the __first time since sneaking after her parents, looking afraid at what she had just heard._

'_Oh, Raven…' I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to hear my parents say that the best option for me was to send me off to some place where time stands still._

_The scene changed once again to the inside of a car. I couldn't tell what kind it was from the inside. Raven was fidgeting in the backseat as the man in the front drove. He was someone I didn't recognize, but he kept looking at Raven in the rearview mirror._

"_Don't worry," he said. His voice was deep, but somewhat comforting._

"_I don't wanna go. I don't wanna leave mom. What if she gets old or something while I'm in there?"_

_The man didn't answer her. At that moment, they pulled up in front of a building that looked just like all the other buildings around, which were casinos filled with adults that were smoking and gambling._

_I exited the car (which turned out to be a P.T. Cruiser) and followed the man and Raven. Raven held onto the man's suit pants leg nervously._

_When we entered, my mouth fell open. The place looked wonderful. There were games, rides, restaurants, and anything else you could think of. There were children of all ages dressed in a variety of wardrobes, all engrossed in the many games._

_Raven and the man were introduced to a man, the only adult that he could see. He told Raven that she was the cutest and youngest person they'd ever had stay there. He handed her a green plastic card and told her that she could play whatever she liked. She looked down at her card and slowly made her way to a game that she found interesting and begun playing._

_The scene changed again, and she looked no older, but she was playing a Nintendo game with two other children, who were about my age, a boy and a girl. They all shared hair color and a certain gleam in their eyes whenever they destroyed aliens on the screen. They were enjoying themselves until the same adult brought over a man in a blue pinstriped suit and they pulled Raven aside._

_He told her that he represented her father and it was time for them to leave. She reluctantly got her things together and made her way with him to the exit, but not before looking over her shoulder and waving at the two children she had been with._

"_Bye, Bianca! Bye, Nico!"_

_She looked very sad to leave them, but exited the building._

_A limousine was waiting outside for her, and the man opened the door for her. Also in the backseat was her father._

"_Daddy?"_

"_Sit down, we need to talk." So she slid in and I followed her._

_He told her as the vehicle started down the street that her mother had been killed. She took the news rather badly._

"_No. NO! She can't be! Mom!"_

_She opened the limousine door. My eyes widened and I hopped out after her, knowing I couldn't stop her, only follow her._

"_Raven!" her father called after her._

_The car had been at a red light, so Raven had jumped out onto unmoving ground. She ran between the cars as fast as she could, which was fast for a six-year-old. She turned at an intersection and tried to find sanctuary in nearby woods. She leaned against a tree, gasping for breath._

_Suddenly, she realized she was not alone. From behind several trees came women dressed in armor and wielding swords and shields. Their flesh was scaly and green like serpents' and where their legs should've been were snake tails._

_I was frightened for Raven. She didn't stand a chance against these monsters unarmed._

_One of them laughed as Raven shrank against the trunk of the tree, scared out of her life. It swung its sword at her, purposefully missing her just to make her scream. She stabbed at the earth and got the same result. She finally raised her sword for the kill._

_Raven clutched her head, closed her eyes and screamed._

_A large black stone rose from the ground next to her, leaving a hole that a car could fit into there. IT rose in the air and fell, crushing the snake-woman. All the others hissed and retreated._

_I stared at the large stone, then at Raven. How did she do that?_

_Raven collapsed, but appeared to still be conscious. She opened her heavy-looking eyes with evident difficulty and tried to sit up she grabbed the trunk of the tree and leaned all of her weight on it, appearing completely drained and exhausted._

_Her father came walking up with the driver of the limousine. He stared at the large black stone and then at the retreating snake-women._

_I looked at his expression—more impressed than surprised—then back at Raven. She looked up at her father, then fell at her father's feet, her breathing strange. He picked up her limp body, holding her in a paternal way—which was an odd sight. He touched her tongue to a strange food and her breathing returned to normal and her eyes opened tiredly. She nestled against her father's robes._

"_Your predictions are correct, my Lord," said a hissing voice. I looked; the ch__auffer had turned into a bat-like creature with leathery wings. "She _is_ powerful. She might be the one, as you have said."_

"_Yes, I know," said Hades, looking at his daughter and managing to show no emotion._

'_So _that's_ where she gets it from.'_

_Hades sighed. "She won't be trainable if she's worried about all of this," he told his demon-bat minion._

"_Shall I modify her memory?"_

_Raven looked at the demon bat, her dark eyes showing confusion. I guessed she was trying to work out what they were saying in six-year-old terms._

"_No," said Hades slowly, thoughtfully. "No...Just fade it. Keep the memories in her mind; just make them difficult to remember. She may need these memories someday. Even I will never know for sure." He handed his daughter to the beast._

"_Raven, go with Megaera. It'll all be fine." Then he turned to the bat-thing—which was apparently named Megaera. "Take special care with her and follow my instructions exactly."_

_Everything after that went by so fast it was overwhelming. I saw her being handed her black rucksack for the first time, I saw her fighting off a monstrous beast at age eight, and I saw her alone in her room, on the brink of tears that she seemed determined not to shed._

I sat up quickly, breathing as though I had just run miles.

Ron turned in his sleep. "Whazzappening?" he mumbled, then rolled over and went to bed.

I wiped my sweaty forehead on my pajama sleeve and swallowed, quenching my cotton dry throat.

Was what I had dreamed real? Did that really happen to Raven and her mother? It seemed so realistic.

I could _not_ get back to sleep.

Third POV

The next morning at breakfast, Harry and Raven sat across from each other at the Gryffindor table. Neither of them spoke a word to each other until the first class. Gradually, they started to forget their dreams and move past it, but it always lingered in the back of their minds, waiting to pop up sometime.

**HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT! This is the official end to this story, but never fear dear readers, because the next one is coming up as soon as possible. It may take a while because I'm trying to take the time to plan it out and type out all the chapters so I can update faster. I"m doing it for YOU! :) **

**Please review and post anything you think will happen or want to happen in the next book, please! I could use your input ^_^**

**Bye for now!**

**DaaughterofHades out!**


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